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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26629408">Curious Case of the Enigmatic Noirette</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geeky_Mind/pseuds/Geeky_Mind'>Geeky_Mind</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Adventures of A Detective and the Noirette! [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Violence, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Possessive Sherlock, Sherlock Being Sherlock, mention of miscarriage, past Neville/Harry - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:22:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>60,910</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26629408</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geeky_Mind/pseuds/Geeky_Mind</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>More adventures follow Helena and Sherlock, who is solely focused on finding out the secret she’s hiding.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Sherlock Holmes/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Adventures of A Detective and the Noirette! [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921897</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>222</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>female characters</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>AN: Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter or Sherlock. They belong to their respective authors and writers. This is written for purely entertainment and no money is being made.</p><p>This is the 2nd part of the series. If you haven’t read the first, which is a one-shot, I would strongly advise you to do so before starting this one. It would make somethings clear.</p><p>It is obvious that many things have been changed according to fit my story, but many things are the same as the BBC’s Sherlock. I’ve changed some events accordingly and I’ll let you know as we move forward.</p><p>Thoughts, inner ramblings and memories are written in italics.</p><p>William Sherlock Scott Holmes – 30 yrs.</p><p>Helena Euphemia Potter – 29 yrs.</p><p>Mycroft – 40 yrs. (10 years older than Sherlock)</p><p>John – 37 yrs. (7 years older than Sherlock)</p><p>I would like to apologize for any mistakes in advance. Please do not copy this story anywhere.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <span class="u">February 2<sup>nd</sup>, 2010</span> </strong>
</p>
<p>“She didn’t even care about the damp! She’s even renovated it all! I have no idea how they’ve done it, but it has two bedrooms, a living room and they even managed to build a small backyard. Oh, you should see it! The flat looks like you see in one of those magazines nowadays. If only I had that kind of money…”</p>
<p>“Mrs Hudson!” Sherlock shouted, startling the woman and John shook his head.</p>
<p>“Please do try to behave, Sherlock. After years someone's interested in the flat. Try not to run them off!” she pleaded, earning a scowl from the said man and he jumped on his chair angrily, arms holding onto his knees. He liked the setting as it was and didn’t want any idiot to move in to disrupt his life. Was that too much to ask?</p>
<p>The house had been filled with numerous people during the past 3 months. They had practically demolished 221C and reconstructed the whole flat. He wasn’t blind and could see the ‘backyard’ from the window of his bedroom. From what he had gathered, a family of two, possibly three was moving in. The movers had moved in one full-sized bed and a queen-sized one, two days back. Whoever it was, loved to read because the bookshelf covered the entire back wall of the living room. A huge fireplace had been built beside a glass wall with a view of the front street.</p>
<p>He scoffed, already plotting ways to run off the new ‘neighbours’ when he heard the knock and once again, he jumped out of his chair and rushed to the window. A woman with long black hair got out of the cab, but other than that, he couldn’t see much from up here. It was already freezing and because of the rain, the woman was covered from head to toe. He didn’t need to turn to see that Mrs Hudson had already rushed downstairs to greet the new owner.</p>
<p>He closed his eyes and focused on the new voice. He wanted to figure out a way to make her leave as soon as possible, but suddenly his eyes snapped open and he sat up straight. He knew that voice and his eyes widened as he leapt to his feet and rushed downstairs, ignoring the fact that he was barefoot.</p>
<p>Sighing, John followed him at a much more sedate pace.</p>
<p>She was standing beside the staircase, in front of the chimney, introducing herself to Mrs Hudson when her eyes met his and they widened in surprise, but she schooled her features easily.</p>
<p><em>‘She didn’t know I live here. For some reason, it had made her tense. Whatever she’s hiding, she didn’t want anyone to know.’</em> Sherlock observed.</p>
<p>“Helena.” He nodded his head, ignoring the way two heads snapped towards him, ready to tell him not to do ‘the thing’.</p>
<p>“Sherlock.” She nodded, giving him a small smile, surprising John and Mrs Hudson, much to his delight.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry. How do you know each other?” John asked confused, staring between the two.</p>
<p>Before she could open her mouth, Sherlock replied smoothly, “We’re friends.”</p>
<p>John’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open. He gaped, seemingly loss at words before turning towards her and asked, “Friends?”</p>
<p>Sherlock looked insulted, while she looked at him like he was stupid. Instead of replying, she nodded and introduced herself, “Helena Potter.”</p>
<p>“Uh… John Watson.” John said, still feeling confounded.</p>
<p>Mrs Hudson jumped in and asked concerned, “Do you need a hand, my dear? I’m sure the boys would be happy to help.”</p>
<p>Helena smiled at the woman and shook her head. “It’s quite alright, Mrs Hudson. Everything has already been moved-in and my friends will be here by morning to help me unpack.”</p>
<p>“Hermione?” Sherlock asked with disdain.</p>
<p>“She’s not that bad! I’m sure you’ll get along once you get to know her.” She told him, earning a raised eyebrow, clearly implying that she was being mad.</p>
<p>Sherlock opened his mouth to argue, but she held her hand in front of her and said shortly, “No. I know what you’re going to say. I don’t want to hear it.”</p>
<p>He snapped his mouth shut, but his eyes narrowed at her and she stared right back. John shared a look with Mrs Hudson, who shrugged, so he cleared his throat, gaining their attention as two pairs of eyes snapped towards him simultaneously.</p>
<p>Despite feeling awkward, he tried again, “I’m sorry. How did you meet again?”</p>
<p>“I’m sure Sherlock would be happy to fill you in. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She nodded at the two before turning towards Mrs Hudson and explained with a smile, “I’ve had a long day. I took an off but got called in. Work. If you don’t mind…”</p>
<p>“Oh no, of course, dear. Make yourself at home. Do you want a cuppa? I’ll get you one.” Mrs Hudson didn’t wait for the reply and rushed towards her flat.</p>
<p>Helena blinked before turning towards Sherlock and John. “She seems very… nice.”</p>
<p>“Yes… yes, she is,” John replied.</p>
<p>There was a thick bout of silence before she nodded at the two. “Gentlemen.”</p>
<p>With that, she opened the door to her new flat and rushed inside, closing it behind her with a bang.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Helena thumped her head on the door and groaned, “Dear Merlin, why?”</p>
<p>In hindsight, she must’ve seemed rude, but right now she could care less. They lived in the same city, so meeting him wasn’t that big of a deal, but shifting into the same apartment? What were the chances!?</p>
<p>Seeing Sherlock after years had been a shock, but with how things had ended, it was self-explainable that he wouldn’t want anything to do with her. Obviously, she hadn’t been as important to him as he had been to her. Not that she blamed him. They were kids and he had a family, people who loved him, so why would he want anything to do with an orphan like her? Especially when she was ‘abnormal’.</p>
<p>She had successfully managed to get him off her case last time, but with living in the same house? He would figure it out sooner or later. She knew he would. Especially because he was already aware of magic or at least the fact that she had it. He might’ve forgotten, but he was a genius and quite possibly, one of the most intelligent men in the world. How long would it take for him to remember? Not long, she’d reckon.</p>
<p>Why was she the only one to find herself in such situations? Now, what was she going to do? And how in the world she hadn’t known that he lived here? Oh right! Because she had left everything on someone else and hadn’t even known until days ago where she was shifting!</p>
<p>She wasn’t worried about his roommate. The man seemed quite… normal. But then he was an army doctor and wouldn’t look at anything that was rejected by science. No. She was concerned about Sherlock. He was already suspicious; how long would she be able to hide it from him?</p>
<p>She needed to talk to Kingsley.</p>
<p>And she would have to inform Hermione and Ron to come through the door and not through the floo as they had originally planned!</p>
<p>In her hurry to get away from the scrutinizing gaze, she had lied that she was tired! She hadn’t had a meal since morning and was starving!</p>
<p>With another groan, she thumped her head on the door yet again.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Sherlock was lying on the sofa, staring at the ceiling with his hands folded under his chin and waited for John to speak. He knew how the man’s mind worked and he would give another 10 seconds before the man spoke. He didn’t have to wait long as John cleared his throat and said, “So…”</p>
<p>
  <em>‘8 seconds.’</em>
</p>
<p>Sherlock smiled as John continued, “…a friend?”</p>
<p>“Yes, John. A friend.” He replied, not looking at him.</p>
<p>John raised his eyebrows and stated, “You didn’t tell me you had a lady friend.”</p>
<p>“It wasn’t significant.” Sherlock shrugged, unconcerned.</p>
<p>John thought for a second before he asked slowly, “So, you won’t mind if I ask her out?”</p>
<p>Now, Sherlock turned his head towards him, clearly confused, and John elaborated as if speaking to a child, “…on a date. Would you mind if I ask her out on a date?”</p>
<p>He frowned before looking at him as if solving a puzzle and asked, “You want to ask Helena out on a date?”</p>
<p>“Yes. Yes, she’s really pretty. Seems smart and I haven’t been with anyone for a long time now.” John replied.</p>
<p>“Oh, John.” Sherlock eyed him with something akin to pity and opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it and shrugged instead.</p>
<p>“So, you don’t mind?” John asked again.</p>
<p>“No, go ahead. Enjoy the day. You have my blessings.” Sherlock replied sardonically, making John huff.</p>
<p>“Alright, then.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong> <span class="u">February 3<sup>rd</sup>, 2010</span> </strong>
</p>
<p>Someone knocked on the door and Helena groaned, having a hunch who it could be. She didn’t want Sherlock to be here, especially not in the presence of Hermione, who would curse him at the first chance available. There was another knock and before she could think of something, Ron opened the door.</p>
<p>“Hello. I live upstairs. I thought I should help… in case you need it?” She heard Sherlock’s voice and looked skyward, praying for patience.</p>
<p>“Oh! Well…” Ron seemed unsure, so he shouted, “ELLE! It’s your neighbour!”</p>
<p>Helena looked down at the cup of tea and sighed, readying herself to face the music. Rushing towards the door, she saw Sherlock standing in the doorway, looking around, but smiled as soon as he saw her and he waved a box in front of them.</p>
<p>“I thought I’d bring a welcome gift. Biscuits! The best in London!”</p>
<p>Helena regarded him carefully, noticing that unlike last night, he was dressed impeccably. He was wearing a light-blue shirt with black pants, topped with a Belstaff Milford coat and Italian loafers. And boy, had he turned into a looker, more elegant than his brother had been – possibly because of the sharp cheekbones or grey-eyes which stared down at the world with disdain, a long neck which had been hidden by his scarf the last time she’d met him.  His curly locks seemed chaotic while he stared at her unblinkingly. His hair had darkened considerably, his eyes didn’t have the same softness as before and she hadn’t seen him smiling even once and dare she say, he had turned out to be quite good-looking.</p>
<p>Even though this man seemed nothing like the friend she had before, she could still see a glimpse of the child he’d been. She wondered if he was still single. She’d be surprised if he was. Helena blinked at her train of thoughts before shaking her head. She couldn’t go forward on this road, at least not with Sherlock.</p>
<p>Ignoring her inner ramblings, she looked at the box in his hands. The biscuits were for pretence, she understood too well, but she thanked him, only for Ron to practically snatched the box from the man’s hand. Ron didn’t see Sherlock scowling, but she did and raised an eyebrow questioningly. The scowl dropped and he schooled his features before smiling at her, too sweetly and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the childlike behaviour. Reluctantly, she invited him in and he accepted eagerly.</p>
<p>The first thing Sherlock noticed was the room. The front side of the wall had been ripped down and the huge window gave the view of baker’s street. The room was toasty warm due to the fire. In front of the fireplace was a huge sofa set, big enough for about 15 people. There were 3 mugs of something… alcoholic lying on the centre table and the place was littered with boxes. There was a tv on a stand and even would admit that even he was surprised by the number of tomes that were already in the bookshelf. They were old and well-read, clearly inherited from the family.</p>
<p>Somehow, her house seemed bigger and spacious than his or Mrs Hudson’s and at that, he frowned.</p>
<p>Someone cleared their throat and he looked at the woman standing in front of him. Her hair was piled on top of her head messily and she was wearing a satin pyjama set.</p>
<p>As Hermione’s eyes landed on him, she growled, “YOU!”</p>
<p>“Me,” Sherlock replied indifferently.</p>
<p>She spun towards Helena and asked hotly, “What is he doing here?”</p>
<p>“He lives upstairs,” Ron stated with his mouth full, making both his wife and Sherlock grimace. “You know him?”</p>
<p>“No.” Hermione replied through gritted teeth and threw Sherlock a dirty look.</p>
<p>
  <em>Unremarkably average, trustworthy, loyal. Youngest of the brothers, but has a younger sister. Wearing hand-me-downs, a family of 7 or 8 with meagre resources. Besotted with his wife. Would die or kill for either of the two women standing in the room. Is closer to Harriet, more than Hermione. Plays the same game as Helena, but not as athletic or muscular. Shopkeeper? Was in the same war as the two, part of the same organisation, has the same weapon in the back pocket of his jeans.</em>
</p>
<p>“Ah… The husband.” Sherlock lowered his head and stated grievously to a confused red-head, “You have my condolences.”</p>
<p>Ron looked around confused and asked, “What? Why?”</p>
<p>Hermione ignored her husband and growled, “You’re not wanted here. Leave!”</p>
<p>“Why? I wasn’t wrong. You took my advice and are clearly… happier now. You’ve even gained 5 pounds since the last time I saw you.” Sherlock asked, truly baffled why the woman seemed to be getting angrier. He’d even bought biscuits!</p>
<p>“You are the rudest, pompous and most obnoxious arsehole I’ve ever met!” Hermione cried.</p>
<p>Sherlock, unaware of anything else and focused on the woman. His eyes shined brightly as he asked, “How do you do that?”</p>
<p>“What?” Hermione spat.</p>
<p>He pointed at her hair and enquired, “Your hair becomes even more chaotic every time you’re livid. It becomes bushier… wilder even. How? Can I touch it?”</p>
<p>Ron and Helena stared wide-eyed, equally aware of Hermione’s anger and neither was surprised when Hermione didn’t reply, just stared at the man who was gawking at her like she was an experiment and punched him in the nose.</p>
<p>There was a sickening crunch and he doubled over with pain before clutching his nose.</p>
<p>Ron and Helena gaped, exclaiming simultaneously, “Blimey!” and “Bloody Hell!”</p>
<p>Sherlock pulled his hand away from his face, which was now coated with blood as it ran from his nose and over his lips and tried to blink back the dark spots that filled his vision.</p>
<p>“Wha’ waz tha’ fo’? I waz juz makn’ n obzrvatn’!” Sherlock claimed in a nasal voice, glaring at Hermione.</p>
<p>“Alright! You two! Enough!” Helena snapped stopping the two from what was sure to be another fight. She turned towards the brown-haired girl, feeling irate. “What the hell was that for?”</p>
<p>Hermione kept glaring at the man, feeling satisfied and shrugged, “He deserved it.”</p>
<p>“You need to calm down!” Helena ordered her friend, who crossed her arms across her chest and snapped, “Why is he even here?”</p>
<p>Helena blinked, befuddled by Hermione’s unnecessary hatred for Sherlock before replying, “He’s a friend and can stop anytime he wants.”</p>
<p>“Friend?!” Hermione stated incredulously. “You don’t even know him!”</p>
<p>“I do know him more than you think,” Helena responded.</p>
<p>“You’ve met him once!” Hermione cried before retorting, “Is it like the times when you were obsessed with Malfoy? Is he another one of your charity cases? So, you’re going to let him get away with anything because you pity him?”</p>
<p>Helena’s eyes tightened, her hands clenched into fists before she whispered through gritted teeth, “Leave.”</p>
<p>The girl threw a glare at her but thankfully didn’t respond. She picked up her purse with an angry huff before storming out of the apartment, closing the door behind her with a loud bang.</p>
<p>Helena turned to see Ron standing in the middle of her living room, looking just as perplexed as she felt. Things hadn’t been the same between the three of them ever since Sherlock, so eloquently mentioned Hermione’s parents all those months ago. Hermione had tried to assure her that the man was mad and a liar and knowing that her friend was saying it to make her feel better, she had shrugged the incidence off.</p>
<p>She used to have a small one-story house near Hermione and Ron’s house and the Burrow. She had no one and she needed someone’s help to take care of Teddy. Andromeda had tried for the first year, but losing her daughter broke the headstrong woman she’d known. Helena knew she couldn’t have raised Teddy without the help of Molly, but the woman had lost her son and had been grieving. So, without giving it any thought, she had turned towards her two friends. In hindsight, she should’ve known that the newly married couple needed their space, but she was 19 and taking care of a 2-year-old baby; obviously, she wasn’t thinking clearly and neither of her friends said anything. Things had been perfectly fine until Hermione had a miscarriage 3 years ago. The fights started weeks after that. Bless Ron, her best friend never lost his patience and had always been there for his wife.</p>
<p>Helena had never really given it much thought that Hermione held her responsible for her parent’s death, not until Sherlock had mentioned it. Ron would always support her and she knew it, but it was time to let them have their own life.</p>
<p>This had been Teddy’s first year at Hogwarts, she’d missed him, but it had given her time to sought everything out. The first thing she’d done was let Kingsley know that now, she will only be working while her boy was at school. She still needed to work, but with her small inheritance, she had enough saved by now to give a secure life to her kid. Once it had been done, she’d started searching for a flat and now, here she was.</p>
<p>She blinked at Ron, who was looking at her regretfully as if it was somehow his fault and said, “I don’t know what happened. I-I should talk to her. I’ll be back to help once I’m done.” He waved his hands towards the unopened boxes.</p>
<p>Helena shook her head, but before she could say a word, Sherlock took a step forward, coming to stand right beside her and spoke for the first time, “John and I will help.”</p>
<p>Two heads snapped towards her as they suddenly remembered that they weren’t alone.</p>
<p>Helena looked at the man; his voice was nasally and muffled by the scarf he had covered his nose with. She grimaced but smiled at Ron. “See… you don’t have to worry. I have help. You go home.”</p>
<p>Ron looked unconvinced but nodded before turning towards Sherlock. Pointing towards the T.V. and asked, “Do you know how to work a telly? I tried, but this thing isn’t working. Can you fix it? It helps her in sleeping better.”</p>
<p>Inwardly, Sherlock frowned but gave a single nod. “J’hn kn’wz h’w t’ f’x ‘t.”</p>
<p>Ron nodded before pointing towards his node and said sheepishly, “Sorry about that, mate. I can take you to a healer?”</p>
<p>Again, Sherlock frowned at the word ‘healer’ but waved the red-head off. “I h’d w’rsz.”</p>
<p>With a soft apology, Ron kissed Helena’s cheek and was gone.</p>
<hr/>
<p>She rubbed her forehead tiredly before her gaze went to Sherlock, who was staring at her unblinkingly as if solving a puzzle, making her shift uncomfortably. By now, he had removed his scarf from his nose, which had turned red and she noticed the blood that had dribbled down his lips and onto his shirt. Shaking herself, she said to him, “Come on.”</p>
<p>And without waiting for his reply, took his by the elbow and dragging him along.</p>
<p>Startled, he glared viciously at the back of her head, not that she noticed, but he didn’t pull away either. She took him to her room and made him sit on the bed before taking his chin and turned his head up to check on his nose.</p>
<p>Sherlock almost jumped at the unexpected touch and narrowed his eyes, ready to snap but she stepped back before he could. He looked closely and observed that she didn’t do it to spite him. The actions weren’t deliberate. He knew for a fact that she was doing what she would’ve done for anyone, be it John or Rhett or anyone else. Still, he opened his mouth, but the words that tumbled out weren’t insulting as he had originally planned. What came out instead was, “I’z brkn’.”</p>
<p>“No shit, Sherlock.” She snorted and started rummaging something in one of the boxes. Obviously, pain medicine or maybe a cloth? What else could it be? He didn’t need medicine. He’s had far worse, but he chose to stay quiet, taking the moment to look for anything ‘unnatural’.</p>
<p>
  <em>The back wall was painted red, while the others were white. There was a small fireplace made of old bricks. On the other side, there was a small window with a view of the backstreet. A door right beside it, possibly leading to the bathroom. There was a couch right beside the main door; an empty bookshelf on the far side of the wall; a small table with a drawer with an ancient-looking table lamp on top; the bedsheets were golden, but the cushions were red, the same colour as the wall; a red and yellow coloured scarf was lying on the armrest with an unfamiliar looking lion crest printed on it, part of the school uniform, sentimental value. This was the crest of the private boarding school in Scotland, maybe he could find something now that he knew what it looked like. He peered at the picture hanging on the wall, red-haired woman with same eyes as Helena’s and a black-haired man, her parents. There was another picture of a relative younger Helena holding a boy of 5 or 6 and Sherlock frowned. The boy had green eyes and black hair, even their features were the same. She couldn’t have a sibling, not one that was so young. She hadn’t been married, so maybe a child out of wedlock or a cousin?</em>
</p>
<p>“Done with the inspection?” came a casual voice and he turned towards it.</p>
<p>“No.” He replied, earning an eye-roll, while she set a wooden box down on the table and opened it.</p>
<p>There was nothing else to see in the room, so he almost rushed beside her and peered inside the box, to find numerous glass vials filled with differed coloured liquids. He moved his hand to pick one, anyone to see what it was, but she slapped it away.</p>
<p>He did not pout!</p>
<p>Finally, she pulled out a square vial which held a blue coloured liquid and with a decisive nod, gave it to him.</p>
<p>“Here, drink this.”</p>
<p>His eyes narrowed, squinting from her to the bottle and he asked suspiciously, “Whz’ ths’?”</p>
<p>“I’m not going to poison you. It’s just a potion, tastes like horse’s piss, but heals small injuries and alleviates the pain.” She told him truthfully.</p>
<p>He took the vial tentatively, looking at her with a confused frown, hand covering his nose and stated, “U’re n’t a doctr’.”</p>
<p>“I’m not.”</p>
<p>With that, she crossed her arms across her chest, waiting for him to drink the potion patiently. She couldn’t use her wand to heal him and even giving him the potion could easily put her in trouble, but she couldn’t just watch him in pain. He was… had been important to her. It didn’t matter if he chose to forget her; she didn’t.</p>
<p>He must’ve seen something in her eyes because, without another question, he bought the vial to his lips and gulped it down. His eyes watered and he gagged at the taste. He was about to spat it out when he heard her snigger and she said, “Don’t spit it out.”</p>
<p>Tasting like ‘horse’s piss’ was an understatement, but he swallowed it down despite the bile that was about to make an appearance on her new carpet. Within seconds, his nose felt as if it was burning and he yelped, but just as suddenly, his nose turned cold as if he’d applied ice on it. And just like that, the pain was gone. His mind reeled with possibilities as he raised his hand and touched his nose gingerly, which miraculously seemed mended.</p>
<p>His eyes widened and he leapt from the bed, rushing towards the bedroom door, behind which he knew would be a mirror. Closing the door with a loud bang, he stared at his reflection dumbfounded.</p>
<p>
  <em>‘It was healed!’</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>‘How?’</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>‘HOW?’</em>
</p>
<p>In a flurry of motion, he jumped right in front of her, standing at his full height, hoping to intimidate her and breathed, “How?”</p>
<p>“You know I can’t tell you.” She replied slowly.</p>
<p>He grabbed her by the arms and pulled her close, almost to the point that they were pressed against each other, ignoring her surprised yelp. He was aware of the effect he had on women and how stupid they tend to be when it comes to emotions, so he lowered his voice and spoke, “Tell me.”</p>
<p>He felt, more than observed, the hitch in her breath because of the proximity as he stared into her green eyes, assured that he would surely get something out of her. What he wasn’t expecting were her lightning-quick reflexes. Within seconds, he found himself pinned against the wall with his cheek pressed into the wall, while his arm was gripped tightly behind him. He knew she was dangerous, but he was stronger and should’ve been more resilient! He had been able to overpower John in their last ‘match’ and the man knew how to fight!</p>
<p><em>‘She wasn’t brash like most people which gave her an advantage over her opponent. He didn’t try to free himself, knowing it would be useless, not that she was trying to harm him in any way. Not yet at least.’</em>, his mind supplied.</p>
<p>He had always hated people who tried to get in his personal space and was aware of how close the two were standing. It was his fault really, not that he would admit it out loud but he froze when she practically moulded herself against him. He was hyperaware of how every inch of her body was pressed against his and despite the number of clothes between them, he could feel the heat coming off her in waves. But he went stiff when she leaned even closer until he could feel all her curves against his back.</p>
<p>
  <em>‘Was it possible to get this close to someone? Technically, he knew it was… he was aware of the physical aspects of sharing your body with another and its mechanics, but this, right here wasn’t sexual. Was it? She wasn’t trying to seduce him. She was trying to send a message, but right now, Sherlock wasn’t sure his brain was receiving it.’</em>
</p>
<p>Suddenly, all his thoughts came to a screeching halt when he felt her breath, hot and scented with mild alcohol. His breath hitched when he felt her lips ghosting over his ear; close, but not enough to touch as she whispered hoarsely, “You don’t want to play games with me, Sherlock.”</p>
<p>There was something in her voice… something he couldn’t grasp that made him shiver and even before he could begin to gather his thoughts, she took a step back and the heat was gone. He whirled around and stared, for the first time regarding her as sharp and vigilant, not someone who could be fooled easily because of their base-urges. As he stared at her closely, Sherlock reluctantly acknowledged that he had made a mistake of severely underestimating her. She was self-resilient and could easily take him down.  She had been trained in hand to hand combat and was most likely, one of the best this secret organisation had.</p>
<p>“Why do you do that?” She asked suddenly.</p>
<p>He frowned. “What?”</p>
<p>“Wire her up.” She said and held her hand up when he was about to reply, shook her head before adding, “And no, I know you do it on purpose, so try something else.”</p>
<p>He promptly snapped his mouth shut and again stared at her almost making her squirm, before finally stating, “Because she’s easy.”</p>
<p>“Easy?” she asked indignantly.</p>
<p>Sherlock replied nonchalantly, “Yes. She hadn’t fully dealt with the trauma of her parents’ death and the torture she suffered. Maybe something else happened in recent years which triggered it. She’s suffering from the post-traumatic stress disorder. It’s not severe, but it affects her when someone or something triggers old memories. Such people especially hate when someone points out their trigger points and lose any semblance of control for the time being. Of course, there are many ways to let these emotions out and hers is anger. Which makes her vulnerable and therefore the easiest one to provoke. She doesn’t see it but she is insecure, maybe because she feels that her husband likes you more…”</p>
<p>Helena stared despairingly at the space the more he spoke, but this made her snap out of her reverie and she cried out, “That’s preposterous! It’s clear to anyone with eyes that Ron loves her!”</p>
<p>Ignoring her little outburst, Sherlock nodded. “True, but if I’m correct… which I am, she has faced bullying different than yours. She still feels inferior for some reason and she knows Robert…”</p>
<p>“Ronald.”</p>
<p>“…cares about you just as much. He might not be in love with you, but he certainly loves you, maybe like a sister. Hermione is aware of the fact, but...” He looked confused, while he wrinkled his nose looking repulsed before shouting, “Emotions! They make a person foolish!”</p>
<p>She gaped at him, while he stared back with his stone-cold eyes, daring her to state otherwise. As he looked closer, observing her, Sherlock noticed the fleck of gold in her eyes which now seem prominent.</p>
<p>
  <em>‘How had he missed it before? Her eyes were a unique mix of the two, truly captivating, something he was sure he hadn’t seen before. Her black hair matched his own – curly and seemingly unmanageable. She had pale skin, hourglass figure and lips the shape of cupid’s bow.’</em>
</p>
<p>There was something charismatic about her, something he couldn’t put his finger on and all of it fascinated him as nothing had before. He was sure it was because of the secrets she was hiding. He loved nothing more than a good mystery and unravelling the case of Helena Potter would be the best one so far.</p>
<p>They were brought out of their staring contest when someone cleared their throat and both their eyes snapped towards John, who was looking between them with confusion.</p>
<p>They raised their eyebrows in such a similar fashion, that John had to blink before shaking his head, looking embarrassed and said, “Uh… the door was open.”</p>
<p>“How can I help you, Dr Watson?” She asked politely.</p>
<p>“John, please.” He said, earning a nod.</p>
<p>“Oh, uh… I wanted to ask if you’d like to have food?” John babbled. “You’ve shifted here recently, so you might not have anything to eat. We can go out? For food! I mean we can go out for food… if you’re hungry? Are you hungry?”</p>
<p>Sherlock looked at him like he was simply an idiot, while the girl’s eyebrows had almost reached her hairline and John hung his head tiredly.</p>
<p>She smiled at him gratefully before mumbling, “Starved.”</p>
<p>“I’ll go get my scarf,” Sherlock said with a decisive nod.</p>
<p>Startled, John’s head snapped towards him and he asked through clenched teeth, “You-you're hungry?”</p>
<p>“I’m not working.” He shrugged before rushing upstairs, oblivious to the fact that John’s eyes turned mutinous and he glared daggers at his soon to be dead flatmate but smiled at the girl half-heartedly.</p>
<hr/>
<p>It was freezing and Helena was sure it was going to snow in a day or two. The harsh wind slapped on her face as soon as she stepped out of the house. Again, why was she out on a winter night on a day off, when she could’ve been sitting cosily in front of the fire? Ah… because she was an idiot and hadn’t bought any groceries yet, that’s why! True that she ended up eating out mostly, but she always kept food just in case of emergencies. Now that Teddy was at Hogwarts, she didn’t need to cook thrice a day or keep her pantry stocked with snacks the kid liked until he returned, but she loved her tea if nothing else and for that, she needed to go to the grocery store, soon!</p>
<p>She shivered when another gust of wind hit her and cast a warming charm around herself silently. She would’ve cast the charm on the two men as well, but that would only make Sherlock more suspicious and determined to find out about her ‘organisation’. She’d already filled her quota of being foolish for the month!</p>
<p>
  <em>‘Emotions!’</em>
</p>
<p>A voice ridiculously like Sherlock’s shouted in her ear making her huff.</p>
<p>Apparently, the silence had been too much, so John spoke, “So, Helena. Sherlock told me you met while on a case?”</p>
<p>“You could say that.” She said with a smile, but for some reason, John felt it was more bittersweet or wistful than anything else which made him frown.</p>
<p>He shook his head as they walked towards the restaurant and asked, “You’re an officer who works in some special branch for the government?”</p>
<p>John stared confused when Sherlock perked up at the question like he did while solving a murder case. <em>‘What exactly was he missing here?’</em></p>
<p>“You could say that. I do work with the British government.” She replied smoothly before adding under her breath, “…<em>sometimes</em>.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>For some reason, as soon as Helena entered Angelo’s, she felt warm and cosy. There weren’t many people at this hour and the environment was peaceful, but what threw her off was how much it reminded her of Gryffindor’s common room, just a tad bit darker.</p>
<p>A man showed them to a table and Sherlock nodded. “Thank you, Billy.”</p>
<p>Once kept their coats and scarfs aside before skimming through the menu. Helena glanced at John, who was doing the same, but not Sherlock. No, the man was watching her closely as if merely by looking, he would unveil all her secrets. Though knowing the man… he just might and she huffed.</p>
<p>She bit her lower lip and just to throw him off-guard, inquired innocently, “So, Sherlock… how long have you been playing the violin for?”</p>
<p>Sherlock’s eyes sharpened and he asked, “How do you know about the violin?”</p>
<p>“The coat.” She replied simply.</p>
<p>John looked between the two confused and repeated back dumbly, “The coat?”</p>
<p>“Rosin residue.” She replied before adding with a smirk, “A tip? Rosin doesn’t mix well with a black wardrobe.”</p>
<p>John chose to keep quiet while Sherlock cursed under his breath before glowering at her and asked, “Where’s the dog?”</p>
<p>“What dog?” John inquired at the same time she shot Sherlock a look full of amusement.</p>
<p>He scowled at her accusingly as if it was her fault that he got something wrong before stating, “It wasn’t yours, was it?”</p>
<p>“No. I was taking care of him for a friend.” She told him gleefully.</p>
<p>There was another muttered curse before he grounded-out, “What else was I wrong about?”</p>
<p>“You’re the genius here, Sherlock. I’m sure you’ll figure out.”</p>
<p>She looked thoroughly entertained; John regarded the two carefully; Sherlock sulked, until an Italian man, who was undoubtedly the owner saw the detective.</p>
<p>“Sherlock!” the man exclaimed joyously and rushed to hug a nonplussed Sherlock before eying John and added with a wink, “…and your date.”</p>
<p>“I’m not his date!” John clarified with an embarrassed smile to an utterly baffled Helena, who was eying the two curiously as if she’d missed something before shrugging and going back to her menu.</p>
<p>He turned towards her and asked just as animatedly, “And who is this lovely lady?”</p>
<p>She looked up from the menu with a small smile and greeted, “Hello. I’m…</p>
<p>“…Helena Potter!” the man finished, staring at her wide-eyed.</p>
<p>Not for the first time that day, John felt confused, while Sherlock’s eyes narrowed in concentration as he stared at Angelo and Helena.</p>
<p>Her own eyes widened and she stared at the man confused. He was a muggle, and Helena was fairly positive she hadn’t met him before and asked, “I’m sorry. Have we met before?”</p>
<p>“No, no. Unfortunately, not. I never thought I’d get to see you.” The man said before claiming happily, “Angelo Zabini.”</p>
<p>Flummoxed, she gawked before gasping out, “Zabini?”</p>
<p>“Yes, my grandpa was disowned… squib, you know how it works.” He finished lamely, earning a sharp glare from Sherlock which was ignored in the favour of staring at her mystified before adding wistfully, “You look just like James, but you have Lily’s eyes.”</p>
<p>This man was a Zabini, a squib and he knew her parents. She stared aghast before asked curiously, “You knew my parents?”</p>
<p>“Sì.” He beamed before stating proudly, “I opened this restaurant almost 40 years ago. Sirius and James were my first customers. Sneaked out of Hogwarts to come ‘ere. Your grandmother found out of course. It didn’t end well.” He finished with a grimace.</p>
<p>Both Sherlock and John noticed her looking entranced, hanging onto Angelo’s every word.</p>
<p>“I’ve been told that they were troublemakers.” She told the man with a small grin of her own.</p>
<p>Angelo thought for a second before ushering her out of her seat to show her something.</p>
<p>John stared at Sherlock, who himself looked out of sort, and asked, “Do you know s…”</p>
<p>“No.” Sherlock snapped irked at being left out and of course hurried after the two, leaving John alone with the menu, who sighed and followed his ‘friend’.</p>
<p>Sherlock stopped beside Helena, who was staring intently at a picture on the wall. It was in the middle of many others, but his eyes snapped to it automatically. The two people in the picture were Helena’s parents, but when his eyes landed on the third one, he breathed sharply. He knew the man… had seen his posters all over London almost two decades ago. He was a mass-murderer who had killed his friends, a couple and then thirteen other people before he was caught.</p>
<p>By the way, he was standing in between and holding Helena’s parents, he was undoubtedly a close friend, but what surprised him the most was the fact that instead of looking at her parents, Helena was focused on the black-haired man, looking at his face with melancholy.</p>
<p>
  <em>Helena must be 13 when Sirius Black escaped the prison, but how were these two connected? And what was a squib? There was no such word in his dictionary. How did Angelo know more than he did? It was certainly because of his grandfather. Hogwarts – it has to be the school which connected them all or the academy where people were trained. Their families were connected, but what kind of organisation worked like that? No, there was more. He hadn’t missed how she’d said that she worked ‘with’ the government. Not ‘<strong>for’</strong>, but ‘<strong>with</strong>’. Now, he needed to search about Zabini’s because there had been nothing about one Helena Potter, and he had tried!</em>
</p>
<p>He heard a laugh and his eyes snapped towards the sound. It was the first time he had heard her smiling and he frowned at the thought before focusing back on whatever Angelo was saying.</p>
<p>“…mes nearly fainted, so Sirius, being the best friend that he was, took the ring and proposed to Lily himself. Ah, she was furious but clever. Very clever indeed. So, she took the ring and said, <em>‘Yes, I’ll marry you, Sirius’</em>. Should’ve seen how fast James and Sirius turned white. James cursed Sirius before he proposed again. I took the picture just after that. It was a good day.”</p>
<p>Helena willed the tears back and grinned at the man. “There’s not much I know about them. Thank you for telling me.” She whispered gratefully before hugging the man.</p>
<p>Angelo beamed back before speaking, “I read the book… Your parents would’ve been proud. Lily would’ve surely killed Dumbledore, though James and Sirus would’ve lit the old man’s beard on fire.”</p>
<p>She didn’t reply, instead stared back at the picture on the wall longingly until Angelo stated enthusiastically, “Anything on the menu. Free. Absolutely anything you want! I’ll make it myself!”</p>
<p>Once they were back on their table, no one spoke until John asked, “So… they’re your parents?”</p>
<p>Sherlock rolled his eyes at the stupid question, feeling irked at how people couldn’t see something even if it was glaringly obvious and snapped before Helena could reply, “Of course, they were her parents, John! Didn’t you see?”</p>
<p>That earned him a glare from his flatmate which he chose to ignore and turned towards Helena before demanding, “Angelo knows about your secret. How?”</p>
<p>“Secret? What secret?” John asked.</p>
<p>Helena shrugged, not bothering to respond, knowing fairly well that it would only dig her into a deeper hole; also, because she was focused on the street-lights on the opposite side of the roads, which were flickering. No one paid attention, not even Sherlock until he followed her gaze and saw a man staring right at them.</p>
<p>Helena groaned loudly, startling the two and said, “I’m sorry, but I have to leave. Something came up. I’ll see you at home.”</p>
<p>Turning towards Angelo, who was putting the plates down himself, she apologised. Sherlock noticed how the man’s face fell before his gaze too landed on the man standing outside and they widened.</p>
<p>“Is that Mi…” he asked, clearly awed.</p>
<p>“Yes.” Helena cut him off before he could complete his sentence making Sherlock scowl.</p>
<p>For once, John too was looking at the two apprehensively.</p>
<p>“Of course, you must be busy. But you have to come whenever you get the time!”</p>
<p>Standing up, she promised the man to be back and strolled out.</p>
<p>“Who is that?” He asked Angelo pointedly, who made a face and shrugged before rushing back in the kitchen.</p>
<p>Sherlock stared after him coldly before turning towards ‘the woman’ unblinkingly as she met the man and they talked for a couple of seconds. It all seemed normal, until a black car passed from the street, blocking his view for a moment. What left him gobsmacked was the two were gone as soon as the car passed. He stood up abruptly and rushed out to where they had been standing, ignoring John, who was running behind him. He looked around, going as far as rushing into the streets nearby, but there was no sign of Helena or the man.</p>
<p>
  <em>‘There had been no other cars, so where could they go within the blink of an eye?’</em>
</p>
<p>His mind was racing but he couldn’t figure out what had happened?</p>
<p>John skidded to a halt beside him, panting as he did so and asked, “What – the bloody – hell – Sherlock?”</p>
<p>“Where… where… where did she go? Both of them? And who was the man?” Sherlock mumbled, looking all around.</p>
<p>“Sherlock!” John snapped. “What’s going on?”</p>
<p>Sherlock closed his eyes and was thinking back to what he had seen.</p>
<p>
  <em>The man had been standing right under the streetlight – tall, black, broad-shoulders, bald, wore a single gold hoop in the left ear, purple clothes with the same coloured hat. The clock was similar to the brown one Helena and her team wore; vigilant; a stance that matched a soldier’s just like her and the rest of them; important enough for Helena to leave without food despite her previous comment that she was ‘starved’; Angelo knew of him, but his awe stated that they hadn’t met, also that the man was someone big. Head of the organisation? The most important thing though - it didn’t seem like anyone noticed him before they disappeared.</em>
</p>
<p>His phone beeped and he pulled his phone out before reading the message.</p>
<p>
  <strong>‘Stay out from the matters that do not concern you.’</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>MH</strong>
</p>
<p>Now that his curiosity was piqued even further, he obviously ignored it.</p>
<p>“Come on! We’re going home!” He told John before hurrying down the street.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The man stared at her silently making her squirm in her seat.</p>
<p>“You’re playing a dangerous game, Miss Potter.” He said before continuing, “You must know by now how… inquisitive the young man is? He’s closer to figuring things out than you might think.”</p>
<p>She winced because yes, she was aware, but wisely chose to stay quiet.</p>
<p>He stared at her and added, “I should let you know that the older Holmes brother has requested us to schedule a meeting with you… without informing the younger one.”</p>
<p>This had her gaping and exclaimed, “Mycroft?”</p>
<p>The Minister arched an eyebrow. “And how do you know him? As to our knowledge, Sherlock hasn’t shared the information with you yet.”</p>
<p>She avoided his gaze before mumbling, “It's not important.”</p>
<p>Kingsley leaned back in his chair, regarding her carefully before stating, “Mycroft Holmes has a unique position in the British government. Other than the Prime Minister, he’s the one who deals with threats that muggles face from our world.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Shocked, she whispered in a small voice.</p>
<p>“We don’t need an unnecessary dispute with someone of his stature, but I hope you remember that Sherlock Holmes is a muggle and not an exception to our rules.” He warned.</p>
<p>Her face fell and she glared at her hands in her lap hatefully. Sherlock might be an arse sometimes, but he was… or had been her friend. He had an exceptional mind and she won't let anyone destroy it because of some stupidity. She knew how playing with memories affected wizards… and she shied away from the idea what it would do to someone like Sherlock.</p>
<p>“Which is why Mr Holmes wants to speak to you directly.” He told her before adding, “Now, I don’t want you to think you’re entitled to special treatment just because of your role in the war. As long as the two of you keep it under wraps, we won't have an issue.”</p>
<p>Helena’s eyes snapped towards Kingsley, who was looking at her strictly, but there was a softness in his eyes which he reserved for only a few people. They had fought side by side many times by now, even before he was the Minister. This is why she loved the man to bits. He was one of the best people she knew.</p>
<p>She couldn’t help herself and was out of her seat, hugging the man within record time.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Sherlock was still fiddling with the door of the basement flat, trying to open the lock without success with his lock pick. John was leaning against the wall, tiredly staring at the mad detective, who was intent to find out ‘the secret’, only if he could enter inside.</p>
<p>“Maybe you should ask her?” He suggested again, sounding bored.</p>
<p>“Don’t be stupid, John!” was the snappish reply he received, though the man didn’t stop his efforts of trying to break-in.</p>
<p>They both heard the sound of their main gate opening and John froze, glaring at Sherlock, who turned on his heels with his hands behind his back, looking the very picture of absolute innocence.</p>
<p>They heard the clicking of heels and Helena strolled over to them, looking cool and unperturbed by the fact that two men were trying to break in her flat. Stopping in front of them, she crossed her arms across her chest, looked at John and drawled, “I thought at least you’d know how to respect a woman’s privacy.”</p>
<p>The man’s face went red and he blurted, “I tried to stop him!”</p>
<p>Sherlock scowled at him but turned towards Helena.</p>
<p>“We’re friends!” He said as if it explained everything. “Friends can visit each other whenever they want. You said it yourself.”</p>
<p>“I should’ve known it would come to bite me in the ass.” She snipped back without heat.</p>
<p>He threw her a dark look, which she ignored and asked politely, “Would you like to come in?”</p>
<p>“No.” He replied stonily.</p>
<p>She gave him a knowing look and said, “Is that why you’re still fiddling with the lock?”</p>
<p>Surprise filtered across his features while John hung his head.</p>
<p>“Do you want me to wait here while you search my flat for… whatever you’re looking?” She asked sardonically.</p>
<p>“Yes!” Sherlock replied at the same time John mumbled, “No!”</p>
<p>The two glared at each other, having a silent conversation before John looked at her and said apologetically, “Sorry about that, but we’re leaving.”</p>
<p>With that, he dragged Sherlock upstairs, ignoring the man’s outraged protests.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong> <span class="u">February 4<sup>th</sup>, 2010</span> </strong>
</p>
<p>Despite it being open, she still knocked on the door of 221B. Sherlock was glued to the screen of his laptop and no move to indicate that he’d even heard anything.</p>
<p>John, who was reading a paper, turned around from the chair in front of the fireplace and his eyes widened with surprise, but he stood up and said with an awkward smile. “Helena. Come on in.”</p>
<p>“Oh, no! I just wanted to ask if you have some tea or coffee? I haven’t had the time to buy groceries yet. I would’ve asked Mrs Hudson, but she isn’t home.” She told him just as awkwardly.</p>
<p>“Yes, of course. It should be here somewhere…” He mumbled before rushing off to the kitchen.</p>
<p>Sherlock still hadn’t looked up from the computer, so she looked around the large sitting room with a fireplace and mantelpiece with several objects on it. There were two chairs near the fireplace, a table with a black couch and a desk filled with more stuff next to the window. It was a cosy place if a bit… messy.</p>
<p>Helena was still waiting when the main door opened and closed with a loud click. She could practically see Sherlock’s ears being perked up, even though he didn’t move an inch from his earlier position. She could hear the footsteps ascending before a man trudged upstairs.</p>
<p>He was wearing a black suit and was leaning on an umbrella, which she could bet her ass on, held some kind of weapon. His loafers were pristine and not a fleck of dust on his clothing. Pretty suave and sophisticated, not someone who would travel by tube or a cab. The play of subtle expressions on his lips and the grace with which he held himself reminded her of Lucius Malfoy.</p>
<p>Just perfect…</p>
<p>His eyes which were peculiarly light, watery grey as he stared at her introspectively; the face though different, held the sharpness that was remarkably alike with the man ignoring them and her eyes widened when she realised who this was! Another person she thought she’d never see again.</p>
<p>
  <em>Helena hid behind Sherlock, clutching his sweater in her little fist while peering up at the tallboy. Her friend had assured her that this was his brother Mike and he was nice, but she wasn’t as confident. She was scared that he’d force her to leave or ask Sherlock never to talk to a ‘freak’ like her again.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>“And who is this?” Mike asked.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Sherlock beamed proudly and stated, “She’s my friend.”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Mike’s eyes zoomed in on her and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully before asking, “And how exactly did she find her way here?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>She shared a wide-eyed glance with Sherlock.</em>
</p>
<p>Helena blinked back the memory which now seemed like a lifetime ago.</p>
<p>“Mycroft.” John acknowledged him at the same time Sherlock sang condescendingly, “You’re getting rusty.”</p>
<p>Mycroft rolled his eyes but drawled dryly, “I’m not here for you, dear brother.”</p>
<p>This shocked Sherlock and his head snapped towards his brother so fast that Helena was surprised he didn’t get whiplash. He squinted at Mycroft before looking at her and slowly, his lips formed into a devious smile and he said, “You couldn’t abduct her, could you? It's out of your control.”</p>
<p>“I hardly call it abducting.” Mycroft defended.</p>
<p>“You did kidnap me… kind of.” John piped before giving her a sympathetic look and said in a placating manner, “They’ve got this childish – rivalry thing going on. You get used to it.”</p>
<p>Mycroft ignored him and nodded at her. “Miss Potter, I presume?” He asked politely, but there was something in his eyes that gave him away. Gave away the fact that he did recognise her.</p>
<p>The teenager she remembered had been good-looking and had hair just like Sherlock’s. This… man seemed unrecognizable. Maybe it was because of the shock of realising that how he’s grown, she blurted without thought. “Sherlock’s brother Mycroft? You’re old.”</p>
<p>Mycroft’s lips thinned, John blinked, but Sherlock burst out laughing.</p>
<p>Her own eyes widened and she tried to assure the man hastily, “Sorry! I didn’t mean that!”</p>
<p>“Yes, you did,” Sherlock said through his fit of giggles.</p>
<p>She glared at him before correcting, “Okay. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”</p>
<p>The smile Mycroft gave her was belittling as he said, “I can see why you would like my brother's company.”</p>
<p>Sherlock stopped laughing and frowned at that, but John had other issues. He cleared his throat and asked, “Uh… how do you know he’s Sherlock’s brother?”</p>
<p>She gestured towards them and said, “It’s obvious, isn't it? They look nearly identical.”</p>
<p>“WE DO NOT!” The Holmes brothers screeched, clearly outraged at the suggestion.</p>
<p>Ignoring the two, she turned towards John and added with a conspiratorial smile, “See? And look at them – how they hold themselves, the way they’re looking down at ‘the idiots’, the disdain and the desire to kill right now? It's all very similar.”</p>
<p>“Huh…” John observed the brothers before mumbling, “I never saw it before.”</p>
<p>“It’s the hair.” She whispered loud enough for all to hear before taking the tea box John had been holding and thanked him before adding, “Now, I’m sure you’ll have much more important matters to discuss. I’ll take my leave.”</p>
<p>With that, she was gone, leaving two bemused and irate brothers behind.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <strong> <span class="u">February 7<sup>th</sup>, 2010</span> </strong>
</p>
<p>Remembering that the boy she had known had a sweet tooth for freshly baked goods, she decided to bake some as a peace offering. She had gone to the grocery store and bought her monthly ration and now, here she was, knocking on the door of 221B, despite it being open again.<strike></strike></p>
<p>There was a loud shout of, “JOHN!” which almost made her jump.</p>
<p>“For God’s sake, Sherlock!” It was John as he rushed towards the door, cursing his flatmate under his breath.</p>
<p>She tilted her head, noticing that the kitchen was connected to the sitting room, holding a wooden dining table, which was also covered with various scientific instruments which she couldn’t name even if her life depended on it. There was another door, leading to a hallway.</p>
<p>And then there was the man himself, wearing a silk nightgown on top of a suit, no less, staring at something from the microscope. He ignored her existence like he’d done since she left him and Mycroft the other day.</p>
<p>So, she asked John, “Is he still pouting?”</p>
<p>“I do not pout!” Sherlock hissed loudly, making her smile involuntarily.</p>
<p>“Oh, here.” She didn’t bother replying and gave the plate to John, who took it with an appreciative smile. The man gobbled down the first one and the second, making her wonder if he was hungry, so she asked, “Would you like some tea?”</p>
<p>It wasn’t John who replied, but Sherlock. He didn’t look up from his work, but ordered, “Coffee! Black! Two sugars, please.”</p>
<p>John looked uncomfortable as he shifted on his red sofa, while she narrowed her eyes. Deliberately, she perched on the black chair in front of John’s and called, “Sherlock, be a dear and make some for me too please.”</p>
<p>Now, the man’s head snapped towards her with a look that shouted, <em>‘how dare she!’</em></p>
<p>He all but leapt from his chair, jumping right in front of her and snapped through gritted teeth, “You’re in my chair.”</p>
<p>She raised a challenging eyebrow and just to spite him, leaned back, almost melting into the chair comfortably.</p>
<p>He stared down at her stonily before turning towards John, most likely to complain but stopped short when his eyes landed on the plate. Snatching the plate from the man’s hand, earning a huff, he rushed back and sniffed the baked goods, reminding her of a dog. Once satisfied, he looked between John and Helena and stated, “These aren’t baked by Mrs Hudson.”</p>
<p>“Yes. I made them.” She told him, making him squint at her.</p>
<p>He didn’t say anything, but he took the plate back to his work table and away from John’s hands which were about to snatch more cookies.</p>
<p>There was silence, apart from the occasional mumblings from Sherlock, which they both ignored while she peered closely for sometime before saying, “It’s a real skull.”</p>
<p>“Friend of mine. When I say, friend...” Sherlock looked up and stated proudly as if introducing someone to his child.</p>
<p>“Ah. What’s his name?” She asked mockingly, “It’s a he, right?”</p>
<p>“Of course, it’s a he!” Sherlock snapped before blinking at her and mumbled petulantly, “I forgot to name him.”</p>
<p>She had to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing, but replied seriously, “Oh… what about Captain Jack?”</p>
<p>John snickered and hid his face behind his paper when Sherlock threw him a glare. Even though he didn’t speak to her for the rest of the day, the plate was empty by the time she left.</p>
<hr/>
<p>September 24<sup>th</sup>, 2020</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>AN: Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter or Sherlock. They belong to their respective authors and writers. This is written for purely entertainment and no money is being made.</p><p>It is obvious that many things have been changed according to my story, but many things are the same as the BBC's Sherlock. I've changed some events accordingly and I'll let you know as we move forward.</p><p>I would like to apologize for any mistakes in advance. Please do not copy this story anywhere.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>February 2010</strong> </span>
</p><p>Sherlock was standing by the window, looking down the street dejectedly. It had been days since his last case and he was still nowhere near figuring out the secret of one Helena Potter.</p><p>Mycroft knew!</p><p>Even Angelo knew!</p><p>He was the only one kept in the dark! He had searched everything he could, but hadn't found a single thing about anyone but the Grangers! They were dentists and had been killed in an 'accident' in Australia around 12 years ago. There was no mention of Hermione Granger or any child that might've had. Surprisingly, he couldn't even find much about Zabini's or Ross. There was nothing about the Weasley's. It was as if these people didn't exist! Mycroft was being useless as usual!</p><p>He couldn't help but feel annoyed as he saw how peaceful and calm everything was!</p><p>
  <em>How tediously boring!</em>
</p><p>His ears perked up when he heard the clicking of heels and the main door in the foyer opened before it was closed softly. Normally, while going to the office, she preferred walking. He had tried following her, but the results had been the same. She always managed to disappear somehow before he or his homeless network could catch her. But today, Helena stopped in front of the house and was looking around for a cab. Within seconds he rushed after her, grabbing his scarf on the way. By the time she hailed a cab and gave the cabbie the address, Sherlock had jumped in, nearly pushing her further in the back seat in his hurry, much to her shock.</p><p>"Where are we going?" he asked as soon as the door was shut.</p><p>She asked incredulously, "We?"</p><p>"Yes. You're dressed in your usual work attire, but you do not have your coat like you wear when you go to your workplace. You've tied your hair in a braid and not a bun which you prefer while doing paperwork. You do have your 'weapon' hidden in the right sleeve. It's visibly obvious that even though you're working, you're most possibly going to investigate a case." He uttered casually.</p><p>"I'm still working." She told him.</p><p>"Dull!"</p><p>She glared at him before asking, "I thought you weren't talking to me?"</p><p>"Who gave you such a foolish idea?" he snapped childishly.</p><p>Rolling her eyes, she looked at him and blinked at how utterly ridiculously the man was dressed. A grey shirt with brown coloured pyjama pants and a silk dressing gown on top. Looking down, she noticed that he was wearing socks with a pair of white bathroom slippers.</p><p>She couldn't hold herself and said, "By the way, you look truly dashing."</p><p>That earned her a scowl, but he ignored it and asked eagerly, "So, what are we investigating?"</p><p>"There's been a murder. I'm just going to see if it falls under our jurisdiction." She responded reluctantly.</p><p>His eyes sharpened at the words 'our jurisdiction' and he ordered, "Tell me more."</p><p>"I haven't been informed much." She shrugged.</p><p>"BORING!" he sang loudly, starting the driver, who glared at him through the rear-view mirror.</p><p>She jumped at the chance and nodded. "Yes. It's very boring. Why don't you go back? I'll tell you all about it once I'm done."</p><p>He squinted at her suspiciously before stating, "We're nearly there and I want to see what's special about it."</p><p>She huffed and turned towards the window. They didn't speak for the rest of the ride.</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>St. Barts</strong> </span>
</p><p>"Agent Potter. I'm here to investigate the animal attacks." She informed the receptionist, who didn't look up from the computer screen and said after a couple of seconds, "Please wait. Doctor Black will be with you shortly."</p><p>That made her blink and she inquired, "I'm sorry. Did you just say, Doctor Black?"</p><p>"Yes." Was the reply she received.</p><p>They waited for a couple of minutes before someone cleared their throat. Helena's eyes went wide with shock as she gawked at Doctor Black.</p><p>"Malfoy?!"</p><p>"Potter."</p><p>"You're Doctor Black?!" she gaped as if the idea in itself was ridiculous.</p><p>Despite being uncomfortable, he nodded. "I took my mother's maiden name."</p><p>Sherlock stayed where he was and noticed the exchange curiously. Even though they never interacted, he had seen Doctor Black many times during his visit to Barts.</p><p><em>Now, he looked for everything that he had previously missed, like how he was connected to the same organisations as Helena. The man was wearing scrubs, but it was easy to tell the way he held himself that he belonged from an aristocratic background. His blonde hair was neatly trimmed and his clothes were specially made for him, most likely from somewhere in France. Married for nearly 3 years, recently had a son. He played the same game as Helena or Roger, had been in the same war, but there was something different about him. Studied medicine at </em> <em>Cambridge. Trying to hide that he is uncomfortable at seeing Helena. Had the same weapon hidden in the right side of his coat pocket. Left the organisation after the war, possibly because he and his entire family had been an essential part of the war, but not on the winning side. Hadn't been the part of the organisation for a long time now, maybe 7 years? That only led to one conclusion – went to Hogwarts like the others. Not friends. Changed his name because of fear of recognition? From what he'd deduced so far, Sherlock was fairly certain that even 'Malfoy' was </em> <em>connected to Sirius Black somehow. Took his mother's maiden name, so his mother and Sirius Black were possibly siblings.</em></p><p>"You work here?" she asked aghast.</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>Shell-shocked, she inquired, "You're the healer Kingsley told me about?"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>Looking utterly thunderstruck, she asked, "You studied in a muggle university?!"</p><p>Sherlock frowned at yet another word he hadn't read before, but Dr Black gave a wane smile and replied, "Yes. It was… quite an enlightening experience."</p><p>She pointed around her and asked, "Why… why here?"</p><p>The man looked down at his shoes and answered weakly, "It's not prejudiced."</p><p>"Oh."</p><p>The silence was awkward as the two looked anywhere but at each other, but Sherlock stayed quiet. This was quite informative and he wasn't going to interrupt.</p><p>"I believe you're here for the reports on the women who were murdered. If you'd follow me?" Malfoy said formally and led them towards the morgue.</p><p>After a couple of seconds, she came out of her shocked state and decided to introduce the two. "Oh, this is Sherlock…"</p><p>Malfoy nodded. "Mr Holmes. He's quite… famous."</p><p>In the elevator, she asked awkwardly, "So, how have you been? It's been a long time since..."</p><p>"9 years, since you didn't come back for N.E.W.T.s," Malfoy replied. "I've been good."</p><p>"And Narcissa?" she inquired and Sherlock felt like screaming! The absurd small talk wasn't why he was here!</p><p>"Mother is doing well. She moved back from France before Scorpius's birth." Malfoy finally smiled a bit as he mentioned his son.</p><p>Her nose wrinkled at the name. "Scorpius?"</p><p>"It's a perfectly respectable name for a Malfoy." He replied strenuously before muttering under his breath, "Much better than Weasel."</p><p>Realising he had insulted her friend, he added hastily, "Uh… sorry."</p><p>She waved him off before finally, finally asking, much to Sherlock's relief, "How many victims?"</p><p>"Five."</p><p>Her head snapped towards Malfoy and she yelled, "FIVE?!"</p><p>Both Malfoy and Sherlock flinched at how loudly she said it, but she didn't care and marched towards the morgue and pushed the door open.</p><p>As she stared at the victims, she couldn't help the bile that rose in her throat. She asked tightly, "Do we have anything on the attacker?"</p><p>"No." He looked right into her eyes and said pointedly, "But the pattern is similar and all of them were found right before the full moon. These have been classified as animal attacks."</p><p>Helena swallowed, dreading what she already knew but still asked, "Were they…"</p><p>"Raped. Yes. All of them."</p><p>Sherlock peered closer to the bodies and his brows knitted together with surprise. They seemed like animal attacks and the faces were almost unrecognizable. There were claw-like marks all over their bodies, the rest of the bodies were badly scarred and chunks of pieces were missing from their bodies, especially their throats. <em>'Animal teeth'</em>, he noticed. And there were obvious signs that all of them were raped, but what confused him was the timing. Did the rapist throw the girls to an animal after he was done?</p><p>Helena on the other hand, glared mutinously with her hands clenched on her sides, looking ready to murder someone. Gritting her teeth, she asked, "How many?"</p><p>"3, most likely."</p><p>"A pack." She mumbled under her breath before asking sharply, "And the victims?"</p><p>He shook his head and answered reproachfully, "Not in our records, but their families have been contacted by the local police."</p><p>She was looking at their files, when Sherlock asked suddenly, "Can I borrow your phone? There's no signal on mine."</p><p>Startled, she looked at him wide-eyed before exchanging a panicked look with Malfoy, and Sherlock raised his brow. Deliberately, he held his hand up for the phone, feeling too smug, when there was a sigh from Dr Black and he pulled out a phone from his pocket and said, "Here. Use mine."</p><p>Glaring, he replied, "Thank you."</p><p>Without looking, he fired a text to John, but his only focus was on the two people standing beside him.</p><p>
  <em>An organisation which operates without phones? She did not have a phone, neither a landline. How do people contact her then? He also hadn't missed the look Malfoy had sent her. They knew who the killer was. Once again, he was the only one out of the loop and he felt like screaming.</em>
</p><hr/><p>Later, on their way back, he asked deliberately, "A friend?"</p><p>"Arch Nemesis." Was the answer and involuntarily, his lips twitched.</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>Mycroft's Office</strong> </span>
</p><p>She entered his office through the fireplace in a haze of green. For his part, he remained composed and collected without giving any reaction. She nodded at him before taking a seat in front of his desk. Setting his face in the usual polite mask, he straightened up while pretending her presence did not affect him by any means.</p><p>"Helena Euphemia Potter. I never imagined I would be seeing you again." He said casually.</p><p>She folded her hands together and stated in a blasé manner, "It's good to see your memory isn't as abysmal as your brother's, Mike."</p><p>Mycroft's lips thinned at the nickname.</p><p>"Kingsley said you wanted to see me? What could be so urgent?" she asked innocently.</p><p>The previous smile was gone as he asked seriously, "I see you haven't told him about… everything."</p><p>"I don't think it's consequential anymore." She told him offhandedly.</p><p>Mycroft stared at her, knowing when someone was lying and right now, she was lying through her teeth. He had read her file and knew for a fact that she was extremely sentimental. The sole reason she had given her life for the ones she cared in the past.</p><p>'<em>Stupidly courageous.'</em></p><p>"Why?" he asked instead.</p><p>She arched an eyebrow at that. "That's what you wanted, isn't it? This is why you paid a visit the other day? It is why you've been nagging Kingsley to see me."</p><p>"After you – left, Sherlock became," he stopped to look for the right word before adding, "…withdrawn. He never actually had any friend. Well, you know he had always been 'different'. Not until John Watson. Though I wouldn't go as far as calling him Sherlock's… 'friend', but…"</p><p>She narrowed her eyes. "Why are you telling me this?"</p><p>"Sherlock has always been… sensitive when it comes to you, which is why I assume he ended up locking your memories. I don't want him to…" Mycroft stopped, decided against saying the next words and said slowly, "I worry about him."</p><p>"The two of you used to be a bit more… friendly. What happened?" She knew it wasn't her place to ask, but it has been nagging her for days. What happened to the two brothers who adored each other?</p><p>Mycroft leaned back in his chair and eyed the girl silently because no matter how much he wanted to blame her for what happened to Sherlock, she truly wasn't responsible, was she? Her only fault had been meeting Sherlock all those years ago. Here she was again and he could already tell that it won't end well for either of the two. With a wan smile, he said, "Things change."</p><p>Helena stared. Even though the man hadn't said it out loud, it was glaringly obvious. He still cared for his brother and didn't want her anywhere near him. So, she asked, "You want me to move out?"</p><p>Mycroft shook his head before stating, "No. Sherlock is like a dog with a bone. Your moving out will do nothing but intrigue him further."</p><p>She threw her hands up and asked tiredly, "Then what will you have me do?"</p><p>Mycroft thought for a second, his eyes shined with something before he gave her his best fake smile.</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>22IB</strong> </span>
</p><p>Sherlock was lying on his couch with his hands folded under his chin when she entered his flat. She didn't knock like she always did and that made him frown, but he stayed quiet. <em>'Something was different this time.'</em></p><p>Helena went straight to the window and cast a non-verbal spell to dispel the cameras or microphones around before stating flippantly, "Your brother asked me to spy on you."</p><p>Rolling his eyes at Mycroft, he asked, "What did you say?"</p><p>"Yes, of course!" she stated as if it should have been obvious.</p><p>This had him turning his head towards her and he arched a brow. "In exchange for what?"</p><p>"A favour." She shrugged.</p><p>He thought for a moment before sitting up. Narrowing his eyes, he asked suspiciously, "Why are you telling me this?"</p><p>"You're the one I'll be 'spying' on. You should be aware of what's happening." With that, she winked at him and went back to her flat without giving him time to reply.</p><p>A slow smile crept on Sherlock's face as he jumped and went to the kitchen to check on his experiment.</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>March 2010</strong> </span>
</p><p>Sherlock barged in 221C as if he owned it. He scowled when he saw the 'new phone' lying on the table and its owner nowhere in sight.</p><p>'<em>What use was it when she didn't even keep it with her?' </em>He thought angrily.</p><p>Knowing where she might be, he rushed towards the backyard, only to be stopped short when his eyes fell on the portrait covering the wall. He remembered seeing it before – a stag's head resting on top of the doe as they slept along with the werewolf and a black dog had been playing right on top of the wolf. In the background was a castle, not the one he knew about.</p><p>He had seen it in passing, but now, Sherlock leaned forward and squinted at the picture suspiciously. The dog wasn't playing anymore but was staring right back at him. He moved his fingers and poked the canvas with his fingers, but it was just that – a canvas.</p><p>'<em>Had she changed the painting? But how could it be possible? He knew that he wouldn't be getting anything out of her. He would have to wait for her to leave and then inspect the painting.'</em></p><p>Nodding to himself, he walked towards her backyard, but not before casting another glance at the painting.</p><p>And there she was, reading the newspaper like she had no care in the world. When she didn't notice him, he scowled and opened his mouth to announce his arrival, but changed his mind when he saw the name of the newspaper. <strong>The Daily Prophet</strong>. <em>'Never heard of it before'</em>. As he peeked closer, he noticed the headlines:</p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>WANTED</strong> </span>
</p><p>
  <strong>Fenrir Greyback</strong>
</p><p>And there was the picture of a man with black hair covering most of his face and neck, weird grey eyes – <em>definitely lenses</em>, crooked yellow teeth. What piqued his interest was that the man in the picture was growling. He couldn't read the words underneath, so he rushed forward before jumping on the bench and practically moulded himself next to her.</p><p>Startled by his sudden appearance, her hand clenched into fists until she saw who it was and gasped, "Sherlock!"</p><p>Snatching the paper from her hand, he flipped it open and frowned when he found it to be empty. There was absolutely nothing, not even the picture he had seen seconds ago!</p><p>"Where did it go?" he demanded.</p><p>"What the hell are you doing?" She snapped back.</p><p>"The picture of the man! It was moving! Where did it go? This paper wasn't blank before! How did that happen?" His eyes narrowed and he waved the paper right in her face, making her push it before glaring at him.</p><p>Arching a brow, she picked her mug up and asked innocently, "Are you suggesting, that the picture and words somehow… vanished right in front of your eyes?"</p><p>Gritting his teeth, he glared at her like it would scare her in telling him all her secrets before he snatched the mug from her hand and rushed to the door.</p><p>"Oi!" she shouted.</p><p>He put the paper under his arm and took a sip from her mug, and made a face, but didn't look to see what was in the cup and stated, "This coffee tastes odd!"</p><p>With that, he rushed upstairs, taking the mug along and Helena rolled her eyes because seriously? She stayed quiet though, not bothering to inform him that it wasn't coffee, but hot chocolate.</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>A Week Later</strong> </span>
</p><p>Helena was nursing a cup of tea in Mrs Hudson's kitchen, while her landlady was preparing something for her shop when they heard yet another THUMP from upstairs.</p><p>Mrs Hudson sighed and shook her head before looking at her and asked, "Helena dear, could you please check on Sherlock? I've been hearing things from his flat, but I'm a little busy."</p><p>She looked up and saw her hands covered in dough. The woman looked worried, so she assured, "I'm sure it's nothing, Mrs Hudson."</p><p>"I hope so. I don't know how John deals with the mess Sherlock keeps on making!" The lady said in a motherly tone, reminding her too much of Molly.</p><p>She couldn't help herself and gave a nod. After finishing the last of her tea, she thanked Mrs Hudson before rushing upstairs. The voices became louder as she took the final steps towards the flat, only to be stopped short when Sherlock stumbled into view before landing on the sofa. A man, wearing pastel coloured dress and a cloth covering every part of his face, but eyes, lunged towards Sherlock with a sabre, but he kicked the man away with his feet, got up, adjusted his suit and followed him to the kitchen.</p><p>Wide-eyed, she peeked in cautiously, just in time to see Sherlock knocking the man and rolling away from the table. Sherlock didn't look at her as she'd already jumped back. He dodged another blow before pointing towards her and shouted, "Look!"</p><p>Startled, the man looked at her and she did what any intelligent being would've done. She grimaced but waved at him. Sherlock didn't wait and punched the veiled man and knocked him out as he collapsed on Sherlock's black chair.</p><p>Sherlock looked into the mirror above the fireplace and brushed the creases out of his coat before nodding at her like it was a daily routine. Helena walked towards the man and checked him. His breath was steady, just passed out and she pulled the veil that covered his face down. Biting her lower lip to stop the grin that was threatening to break out, she schooled her features in a look which could only be described as crestfallen as she looked at Sherlock.</p><p>"What?" he asked, clearly confused.</p><p>"He was a friend. I asked him to contact you regarding a missing family heirloom! Why would you do that?!" she cried out rather dramatically.</p><p>She kept her eyes on his face as he looked between her and the man on the couch, turning rather flustered by the seconds.</p><p>She couldn't hold herself any longer and smiled impishly. "Just joking."</p><p>Realising, he had been fooled, he glared at her murderously before whirling around and stomping towards his kitchen.</p><p>Chuckling to herself, she looked around and said, "You'd want to get rid of him before John returns."</p><p>He stopped and clenched his eyes shut before snapping them open. Moving towards the man, he asked innocently, "At least you can clean this mess while I get rid him?"</p><p>She patted his arm and told him gleefully, "Nah, you'll manage."</p><p>With that, she was gone before he could say anything to manipulate her.</p><p>Once she was gone, Sherlock screamed, frustrated and punched the man again. For good measure, of course.</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>Van Coon's Apartment</strong> </span>
</p><p>Sherlock pulled a small black origami flower from Van Coon's mouth before dropping it carefully into a plastic bag. He heard a man talking and turned around to see Anderson and a new Sergeant.</p><p>He walked towards the man, offering his hand and introduced himself, "Ah, Sergeant . . . We haven't met."</p><p>The man in question put his hands on his hips and said with a mild glare, "Yeah, I know who you are; and I'd prefer it if you didn't tamper with any of the evidence."</p><p>He lowered his hand and handed over the evidence bag to the officer before turning on his best stroppy look and demanded, "I've phoned Lestrade. Is he on his way?"</p><p>"He's busy. I'm in charge. And it's not Sergeant; it's Detective Inspector Dimmock." The man replied, surprising him and he shared a look with John before following the man into the living room.</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>Next Day</strong> </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>221B</strong> </span>
</p><p>She had heard the front gate closing and wanted to know if John got the job. She had to leave for work, but she had a couple of minutes to spare, so she hurried upstairs in time see John tossing over a pen to Sherlock, who caught it without looking away from a couple of photographs taped on the mirror above the fireplace with graffiti painted over a man's face. She was mildly impressed by his reflexes.</p><p>'<em>He would've made a brilliant seeker.</em>' She thought ideally.</p><p>Sherlock was sitting on a chair, staring at it unblinkingly with his hands folded under his chin. John looked at her and nodded.</p><p>"How was it?" she asked.</p><p>There was no inclination that Sherlock heard her, but John said with a goofy smile, "Great. She's great."</p><p>Helena blinked, while Sherlock turned towards him and asked, "Who?"</p><p>"The job," John replied.</p><p>Sherlock arched his brows and asked incredulously, "She?!"</p><p>John thought for a second before saying, "It."</p><p>Sherlock looked at him suspiciously before tipped his head towards the laptop lying beside him and said, "Yeah, have a look."</p><p>"Hmmm?" John walked over to the table and read aloud, "The intruder who can walk through walls."</p><p>Sherlock entwined his fingers together and replied, "It happened last night. Journalist shot dead in his flat. Doors locked; windows bolted from the inside. Exactly the same as Van Coon."</p><p>John turned to look at Sherlock and asked, "God! You think…?"</p><p>"He's killed another one."</p><p>Sherlock stated before he turned to look at her as if she was the murderer. She scowled. <em>'It was good to see she wasn't forgotten.</em>' She thought sarcastically. He squinted at her before shaking his head in negative as if concluding something.</p><p>"Can I have a look?" she asked, surprising the two.</p><p>Sherlock waved a hand, gesturing towards his laptop and said snidely, "By all means!"</p><p>Rolling her eyes, she went towards it and looked down at the newspaper article displayed on the screen.</p><p>The headline was, <strong>"Ghostly killer leaves a mystery for police."</strong></p><p>There was a photograph of the bald man, and the article next to it read: <em>'An intruder who can walk through walls murdered a man in his London apartment last night. Brian Lukis, 41, a freelance journalist from Earl's Court was found shot in his fourth-floor flat but all his doors and windows were locked and there were no apparent signs of a break-in. A police spokesman said they are still uncertain how the assailant broke in.'</em></p><p>"Hmm…" She mumbled before straightening up and asked, "How were these two connected?"</p><p>"That would be telling, wouldn't it?" Sherlock snarked.</p><p>She ignored him and questioned, "The first man who died… you found an origami near his body? And you said he returned from China?"</p><p>"Yes?" John mumbled.</p><p>She nodded to herself and stated, "I think your murderer might be Chinese."</p><p>At this, Sherlock looked at her sharply and asked, "How can you tell?"</p><p>"Figure out how this journalist was connected to the first victim… or China." She mused before thinking for a moment and adding, "You do realise that they're famous for martial arts, aren't you?"</p><p>Sherlock's eyes widened and he straightened up. Meanwhile, John asked confused, "Yes?"</p><p>"Easy. Think out of the box." She shrugged. "You just have to search for a man who can climb up the walls."</p><p>Sherlock stared at her, feeling lost for words before stating, "You are... good."</p><p>This surprised John as he gawked at his flatmate; Sherlock's ears turned red, realizing that the words had tumbled out without his permission.</p><p>"And don't you forget it." She told him mirthfully. "Now, I'm getting late for work. See you later."</p><p>But before she left, she ruffled his hair and ducked swiftly when he tried to hit her hand away. John heard her laughing as she rushed downstairs and then stared at Sherlock, who was glowering.</p><p>Those cold grey eyes snapped towards him and he growled, "What!?"</p><p>John shook his head before muttering, "Nothing. Not a damn thing."</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>221B</strong> </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>Later that Night</strong> </span>
</p><p>Helena was lounging on Sherlock's couch after he had 'insisted', more like dragged her upstairs as soon as she had entered the building.</p><p>'<em>She shouldn't have opened her big mouth this morning. At least, she would've had her tea! And Sherlock would've solved the case either way.'</em></p><p>She willed her eyes to stay open as she tried to focus on the numerous photographs that were stuck on and around the mirror. The numerical value of each symbol had been written against it. Sherlock was standing in front of them, looking at the pictures closely and mumbling something too fast for her to understand in her sleep-deprived state; also unaware of the fact that even John had fallen asleep on the study table, with his head propped on his hand.</p><p>"Always in pairs, look," Sherlock said loudly.</p><p>Startled, John blinked before turning his head and squinting at the man behind him.</p><p>"Numbers… come with partners."</p><p>John gazed at her blankly and mumbled, "God, I need to sleep."</p><p>"Why did he paint it so near the tracks?" Sherlock asked, more to himself.</p><p>"No idea," John answered tiredly.</p><p>"Thousands of people pass by there every day," Sherlock mumbled again.</p><p>John closed his eyes and whispered, "Just twenty minutes…"</p><p>Shaking her head, she stood up from the couch and moved to stand beside Sherlock. This was going nowhere and she needed tea to work her brain! Or to stay awake for that matter! One more minute on the sofa and she would be gone.</p><p>"How many people do you think would be able to understand that?" she pointed at the pictures and added, "It's obviously meant for someone they know… someone they work with."</p><p>He stared at her through the gaze that made her feel like she was under inspection. She wasn't smart, but she was the head Auror and had been solving crimes for more than 10 years now, 7 more if she counted every school year.</p><p>"Of course." Keeping his eyes on hers, Sherlock whispered before looked back at a photo and smiled triumphantly. "Of course! He wants information. He's trying to communicate with his people in the underworld. Whatever was stolen, he wants it back." He ran his finger over the symbols trying to search for the message and added, "Somewhere here in the code."</p><p>Suddenly, he pulled three pictures off the wall and walks towards the door. "We can't crack this without Soo Lin Yao."</p><p>"Oh, good." John said, exchanging a glance with Helena, who cleared her throat rather loudly, making Sherlock turn and said, "Why don't you go and talk to Soo Lin Yao? I'll be in my flat if you need me."</p><p>Sherlock looked at her like she was a mental case in need of help before he raised his chin and snapped, "Don't be silly! You're coming along."</p><p>Helena opened her mouth to argue but her eyes went to the red marks on his neck. Frowning, she walked towards him and took his chin between her fingers. She must've startled him because his whole body jerked as if electrocuted and he squinted at her but didn't push her or her hand away, for which she was grateful.</p><p>"What are you doing?" he asked gobsmacked.</p><p>Instead of replying, she turned his head from one side to the other before asked horrified, "Did someone try to strangle you?!"</p><p>John, who had been staring shell-shocked at the display, gasped, "What?! When?"</p><p>He glared at her with an unfathomable expression, making her arch a brow questioningly, so he told her petulantly, "At Soo Lin Yao's flat. They were trying to send a message."</p><p>With a huff, she took a step back and mumbled to herself, "You're prone to more danger than I am."</p><p>Sherlock opened his mouth, possibly to ask something but changed his mind and said instead, "Come on!"</p><p>"At least let me have a cuppa!" she nearly whined as he took his scarf and hurried downstairs.</p><p>He didn't bother replying, at which John gave her an apologetic look before the two followed the man.</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>Museum</strong> </span>
</p><p>Sherlock was sure Soo Lin Yao would be here, so the three of them waited for the museum to close before entering through the duct. Helena wasn't sure what she was doing here, sneaking in like a thief. She had to wake up for work in the morning! She was almost 30, for Merlin's sake! Not a teenager like she was feeling right now! She swallowed the whine back and followed Sherlock, making sure her wand was close to her.</p><p>Obviously, the man had been right. Soo Lin Yao was in a dark restoration room, pouring tea into the teapot on the desk in front of her, when Sherlock decided to step beside her and say, "Fancy a biscuit with that?"</p><p>She gasped horrified and whirled towards the voice, dropping the teapot she had been holding. Again, to Helena's surprise, Sherlock reacted instantly. He bent his knees with quick reflexes and caught it before it could hit the floor. He looked at her and said slowly, "Centuries-old. Don't want to break that."</p><p>Standing up, he handed the teapot back to her with one hand, while flicked the switch on the desk with the other, turning on the light.</p><p>"Hello." He said with a slight smile.</p><p>Her eyes found Helena and John standing behind him and she sighed. The three of them took seats on opposite sides of the table before she spoke, "You saw the cipher. Then you know he is coming for me."</p><p>"You've been clever to avoid him so far." Sherlock said, but she kept her eyes on the table and said, "I had to finish . . . to finish this work. It's only a matter of time. I know he will find me."</p><p>Helena frowned before asking, "Who is he? Have you met him before?"</p><p>Soo Lin Yao's eyes flicked towards Helena and she nodded. "When I was a girl, we met in China. I recognize his… signature."</p><p>"The cipher?" Sherlock asked.</p><p>"Only he would do this. Zhi Zhu." She replied.</p><p>Helena stared confused, while John questioned, "Zhi Zhu?"</p><p>"The Spider." Sherlock translated, confusing Helena even further, but before she could ask, Soo Lin Yao brought her knee up, unlaced the shoe of her right feet and took it off. On the underside of her heel was a black tattoo of a lotus flower inside a circle.</p><p>"You know this mark?" Sherlock nodded before answering, "Yes. It's the mark of a Tong."</p><p>"Huh?" Lost, Helena looked at John, who seemed just as lost.</p><p>Sherlock looked at her and replied easily, "Ancient crime syndicate, based in China."</p><p>"Every foot soldier bears the mark. Everyone who hauls for them." Soo Lin Yao spoke.</p><p>"Hauls?" John asked, making her look him and his eyes widened. "Y-you mean you were a smuggler?"</p><p>Soo Lin Yao lowered her gaze, put her shoe back on and said, "I was fifteen. My parents were dead. I had no livelihood; no way of surviving day-to-day, expect to work for the bosses."</p><p>"Who are they?" Sherlock asked.</p><p>"They are called the Black Lotus. By the time I was 16, I was taking thousands of pounds worth of drugs across the border into Hong Kong." She said, eyes glassy, but continued, "I managed to leave that life behind me. I came to England." She said with a small smile, "They gave me a job, here. Everything was good. New life."</p><p>"And he came looking for you," Sherlock stated.</p><p>"Yes." She nodded before continuing tearfully, "I hoped, after five years, maybe they would have forgotten me. But they never really let you leave. A small community like ours… they are never very far away." Wiping tears from her face, she added, "He came to my flat. He asked me to help him to track down something that was stolen."</p><p>"And you've no idea what it was," John asked.</p><p>She shook her head. "I refused to help."</p><p>It was Helena who leaned forward and stated, "So you knew him well when you were living back in China."</p><p>"Oh, yes." She nodded before looking up and said, "He's my brother. Two orphans. We had no choice. We could work for the Black Lotus, or starve on the streets, like beggars. My brother has become their puppet, in the power of the one the call Shan. The Black Lotus general. I turned my brother away. He said I had betrayed him. Next day, I came to work and the cipher was waiting."</p><p>A tear fell down her cheek, making Helena wince for the poor girl.</p><p>But Sherlock was here for a reason. Standing up, he laid the photographs on the table and asked, "Can you decipher these?"</p><p>Leaning forward, she pointed to the marks and said, "These are numbers."</p><p>"Yes, I know." Sherlock told her impatiently, so she pointed to another photograph and said, "Here, the line across the man's eyes – it's the Chinese number one."</p><p>Sherlock too leaned down the table, looking right at her and asked, "And this one is fifteen. But what's the code?"</p><p>"All the smugglers know it. It's based upon a book…" she wasn't finished talking when the door thuds and all the lights go out.</p><p>Both Sherlock and Helena straighten up and looked around sharply, while Soo Lin Yao squeezed her eyes shut and whispered, "He's here. Zhi Zhu. He has found me."</p><p>Sherlock looked around before taking off… somewhere.</p><p>"No, no, Sherlock! Sherlock, wait!" John shouts after him urgently but to no avail.</p><p>Helena squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and with a muttered curse, rushed after him, ignoring John's panicked calls. She'd apologise to him later, but for now, she needed to keep the man safe who was hellbent on killing himself.</p><p>Shaking his head at the two idiots, John turned towards Soo Lin Yao, grabbed her wrist and said, "Come here!"</p><hr/><p>Helena ran after Sherlock towards the large foyer with staircases at each end, where the bloody idiot was standing in the middle and looking around as if there wasn't a murderer around somewhere! Wand in hand, she rushed towards him and his eyes widened with shock.</p><p>He gaped at her before snarling, "What're you doing here?"</p><p>"Can't let my friend die now, can I?" She replied snidely, but Sherlock stopped his search to stare at her.</p><p>Between the glaring contest, perhaps they forgot where they were and were reminded when a figure ran across the balcony and fired at them. Startled, they turned to look at the man who had a gun pointed at them before Sherlock grabbed her wrist and shouted, "Run!"</p><p>There were more gunshots as they both ran in the opposite direction before flinging themselves on the floor. They slid along it and took shelter behind a statue on a low plinth. The figure fired a couple more times making Sherlock duck, but Helena clenched her wand in her fist, peeked out from behind the plinth, pointed her wand where she knew the man was standing and fired a silent, "Stupefy."</p><p>The force of her spell shattered the pillar where the man had been and she winced before turning back. She didn't get the man, but at least he had stopped firing.</p><p>"Come on." She whispered, keeping her wand in front of her and stood up.</p><p>When the man didn't respond or follow her, she looked at him only to freeze. '<em>Oh, she'd forgotten for a moment that he was a muggle.'</em></p><p>The man in question was openly staring at the wand and she resisted the urge to hide it away. Frowning, he blinked up at her and asked excitedly, "That's the weapon! How does it work?"</p><p>"Can we do this at home?" she practically begged.</p><p>He looked at her wand again, looking ready to snatch it away and figure out how 'the secret weapon' worked, but finally nodded reluctantly and turned to look across the balcony, where their attacker had just disappeared from their view. Without wasting another second, Sherlock leapt from behind the plinth with Helena on his toe. They ran across the foyer and up the stairs before turning around and into the display room. The man started firing again from behind, making Sherlock duck, while Helena turned slightly and cast a "Protego," to stop the bullets.</p><p>Sherlock grabbed her wrist, startling her and pulled her along to duck behind a display cabinet. The man was still firing, but Sherlock kept a hold of her, shielding her from view before calling, "Careful! Some of those skulls' are over two hundred thousand years old. Have a bit of respect."</p><p>Panting harshly, they waited for a couple of seconds, but there were no more gunshots. So, Sherlock shouted, "Thank you!"</p><p>There was absolute silence, making them frown before Sherlock carefully peered through the glass case. They looked around, but the place seemed empty until they realised why. A single gunshot rang out in distance and both their faces filled with horror as they realised where the sound had come from.</p><p>"John!" They gasped together before rushing down the stairs and back to the restoration room. The room was still dark, so they moved slowly, looking for any signs of the gunman. Their eyes fell on John standing in front of them, looking down at something and they sighed with relief, but it was short-lived when they saw what the man was looking at. Soo Lin Yao was sprawled on the table, dead with a black origami lotus lying in hand. Helena closed her eyes in despair for the girl who was killed by her brother for choosing freedom over the life of servitude.</p><p>"You're hurt!" John remarked, staring at her arm.</p><p>"Oh." She mumbled surprised and turned her head to look down her right arm, and yes, her coat was torn and sticky. "I – uh… didn't notice."</p><p>"You didn't…" John snapped horrified, "It's a bullet wound!"</p><p>She cringed, making Sherlock jump into action as he barked at John, "Don't shout at her, John! She's hurt!"</p><p>"I'm fine." She said but was ignored as Sherlock helped her out of the coat, making her wince when he pulled the fabric off and revealed a gash on her arm where the bullet had grazed.</p><p>Upper-half of the sleeve of her pristine white shirt had turned red with blood, but the gash itself wasn't that bad and she took a relieved breath. "It's not that bad."</p><p>"Not…?" John stared bemused by her nonchalant attitude before stating firmly, "You'll still need stitches."</p><p>"John's right." Sherlock said before looking into her eyes and asked pointedly, "Would the medicine you gave me work?"</p><p>Pursuing her lips, she glared and he arched an eyebrow elegantly at the childish behaviour, making her huff. "It's only for healing or growing bones." She told him waspishly.</p><p>"Growing bones?!" alarmed, John exclaimed, unable to keep up with the conversation through no fault of his own.</p><p>Ignoring him, Sherlock asked again, "Can you heal yourself?"</p><p>Sullenly, she replied, "No, it doesn't work like that."</p><p>"We're going to Barts!" he announced primly before putting his hand on her left shoulder and dragged her along, disregarding all her protests. "John, call the police!" He called before leaving.</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>St. Barts</strong> </span>
</p><p>"You're going to <strong>sew</strong> me?" she asked horrified, eying the torture device.</p><p>Startled, the nurse looked at her and even Sherlock was surprised after realising that she had no idea what 'stitches' meant until now. She had stated had the 'cut wasn't that bad' – meaning she'd had worse injuries before. How did they treat them all? With their private medicines which no one else was aware about?</p><p>"That's barbaric!" She gasped.</p><p>"Miss Potter…" the nurse started, but was cut off.</p><p>"Nope! I'm out of here." Helena jumped from the table and rushed towards the door, only for Sherlock to block her way.</p><p>As she glared at him, he stated in a whisper, "You had no idea what stitches were."</p><p>"Well, I thought it might be the name of some – some procedure! Not an act of torture!" she yelled dramatically.</p><p>Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Torture? Really?"</p><p>Tired of their bickering, the nurse interrupted softly, trying not to scare the patient. "Do you need anaesthesia? It will calm down your nerves and alleviate the pain."</p><p>If her face had been pale before, it turned green within seconds.</p><p>Sherlock's mind was whirling even though he kept his eyes on the nurse who was treating Helena. Also, she had refused to take the local anaesthetic, claiming that she can handle a couple of stitches. What surprised him the most was that despite wincing occasionally, she did not indicate that she was being 'sewed'. It was a fairly deep wound, but she hadn't even realised she'd been hurt until John had pointed it out. She'd been with him the whole time and had not displayed any sign that she'd been hit. Most people would've been crying or panicking by now, but not her. But then, she had been in a war and surely had dealt with far worse?</p><p>The idea of numbing her right hand had made her panic and finally, he understood why! She needed her right hand to be in perfect condition in case she needed to use her stick. It fit the description perfectly, but how could a wooden stick be used as a 'weapon'? And he had seen her using it twice, and the force of whatever she had used had broken the pieces of a marble pillar! Despite it being a plain-looking wooden stick, it was carved and polished with precision. It wasn't merely a stick, but the weapon used by people who went to Hogwarts in Scotland. It was obvious that children were trained there, but what he wanted to know was how were they selected? Was it a family thing? He was almost certain it was.</p><p>How big exactly the organisation was? They had different departments, doctors, their own medicines – far different and advanced from what the world knew of, their newspapers, people who didn't use technology, kept owls as pets, had a secret war unknown to the mankind…</p><p>He had bought her here in hope to see Dr Black and how he would 'heal' her cut. It was a fairly deep wound, and she had lost quite a bit of blood. It wasn't life-threatening, but he just knew the man would have something to treat it. They had a medicine that can heal broken bones within seconds and his head was brimming with several possibilities that he had no clue about! He was sure Mycroft knew, after all, there wasn't anything the man didn't know and it was killing him that he was kept in dark.</p><p>His phone beeped and he looked down at the message with a scowl. He needed to get his hands on her stick so he could figure out himself how it worked, but right now, he had another pressing matter to attend.</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>Scotland Yard</strong> </span>
</p><p>"How many murders it is going to take before you state believing that this maniac's out there?"</p><p>Helena and Sherlock heard John saying when they walked in, only for the inspector to turn away and head towards another desk, but John followed him and continued, "A young girl was gunned down tonight. That's three victims in three days. You're supposed to be finding him."</p><p>Despite her hand being in a cast, Helena strode forward confidently and asked, "Detective Inspector Dimmock?"</p><p>Hearing a new voice made Dimmock look at the newcomer and his eyes fell on Helena standing beside Sherlock.</p><p>"Agent Potter." She offered the man her hand which he shook with a confused frown. She added deliberately. "I work with the British government."</p><p>He looked at her suspiciously, so she pulled out her muggle ID and showed it to him. He straightened up, eyes flittering between the three.</p><p>"I was attacked by the same man who gunned down a young girl right in front of my eyes. If it hadn't been for these two gentlemen…" Her voice wavered and she sniffled a bit, looking for all intent and purposes, a damsel in distress.</p><p>John gaped at her, while Sherlock lowered his head to hide the grin that was threatening to break.</p><p>"Well, I…" Dimmock scrambled for words, staring at her wide-eyed before opening a drawer hurriedly and passed her a box of tissue. "Here."</p><p>She took one and dabbed her eyes before whispering tearfully, "Thank you."</p><p>None of the men knew what to say as they stared at her awkwardly, and in Dimmock's case, scared that she might burst into tears right this second.</p><p>"These nice men here filled me on what's happening." Helena asked authoritatively, "Three victims in three days, all killed by the same man. What has been done to find him until now?"</p><p>Dimmock blinked at her, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water before glancing at the 'two nice men' in question.</p><p>Sherlock chose that moment to speak and sneered, "Brain Lukis and Eddie Van Coon were working for a gang of international smugglers. A gang called the Black Lotus, operating here in London right under your nose."</p><p>With a sigh, Dimmock looked at Sherlock and asked, "Can you show me?"</p><p>Sherlock smirked.</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>St. Barts</strong> </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>Cafeteria</strong> </span>
</p><p>Helena stared, feeling confounded as Sherlock grinned as he approached the doctor. She had been living in the same house for over a month now and had yet to see this… smile. Truth be told, she found it a bit… phoney, but wisely, kept her mouth shut. Also, because she was feeling a bit faint and all she could think about was going home and having a hot cup of tea before taking sleep and blood replenishing potions and slumbering straight for a week.</p><p>"What are you thinking? Pork or the pasta?" Sherlock asked the woman, who was surprised to see him, but smiled shyly before turning back to look down at the food and whispered, "Oh, it's you."</p><p>"I suppose it's never going to trouble Egon Ronay, is it?" He smiled at her before nodding to the display. "I'd stick with the pasta. Don't want to do roast pork, not if you're slicing up cadavers."</p><p>Another smile and the woman grinned at him nervously before asking, "What are you having?"</p><p>"I don't eat when I'm working. Digesting slows me down." He informed offhandedly.</p><p>The woman looks down before peaking up at him shyly and questioned, "So, you're working here tonight?"</p><p>"Ah, yes." He said in place of replying before nodding towards Helena, who was standing not far away and introduced, "This is my friend, Helena Potter."</p><p>Then he nodded towards the woman. "Helena, Molly Hooper. She is the pathologist here."</p><p>Helena waved tiredly with her left hand, while Molly seemed surprised to see another person around. She looked between the two and asked tentatively, "A… friend?"</p><p>"Yes, a friend, Molly. Do keep up!" Sherlock said with a roll of his eyes.</p><p>"Sorry, I didn't see you." Deflated, Molly said before asking apprehensively, "Are you alright? You don't look so good."</p><p>"Really?" Helena asked half-heartedly.</p><p>This made Sherlock turn and look at her. Leaning against the wall for support, she was indeed looking pale and was sweating. <em>Why would she be sweating in March?</em> He took her to the doctor, didn't he? But then he realised that she had lost blood and had gone through a 'barbaric' procedure and was now, in need of rest, but instead she had been running along with him all over London. Nodding to himself, he told her decisively, "I'll take you home once we're done here."</p><p>She perked up eagerly at the suggestion. "Tea?"</p><p>"I'll get you your damned tea!" he muttered through clenched teeth before turning back to Molly and said with a fake smile, "I need to examine some bodies."</p><p>Molly blinked away the shock, still feeling dumbfounded, if only because Sherlock had agreed to 'get' Helena tea without her really asking for it, while he had failed to understand that she had been asking him out for coffee for months now. Why? She looked at him and noticed he was still waiting for a response, but all she could manage was, "Some?"</p><p>Sherlock nodded, "Eddie Van Coon and Brain Lukis."</p><p>That made Molly frown as she looked down at her clipboard she was holding and stated, "They're on my list."</p><p>Sherlock looked at her surprised before widening his eyes and asked in a deep baritone, "Could you wheel them out again for me?"</p><p>Affected by his 'charm' she faltered for a bit but still told him apologetically, "Well… their paperwork's already gone through."</p><p>He pretended to think for a moment and then frowned before pointing towards her hair. "You changed your hair."</p><p>Molly touched her hair and asked nervously, "What?"</p><p>"The style. It's usually parted in the middle."</p><p>"Yes, well..." she whispered self-consciously.</p><p>"It's good. It suits you better this way." He told her with a soft smile.</p><p>Molly smiled back, looking both flattered and flustered before turning away. Instantly, the smile was gone and he looked impatiently at his watch.</p><p>'<em>The manipulative bastard!'</em> Helena thought, glaring daggers at the back of his head.</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u"> <strong>The Morgue</strong> </span>
</p><p>Once Dimmock had left after affirming that there were tattoos of a single Black Lotus on the bottom of both their right heels, Sherlock turned towards Helena and said, "Let's go."</p><p>She didn't reply but turned towards the woman who was zipping the body-bags and asked, "Molly, is it?"</p><p>Both Sherlock and Molly looked at her, startled before the latter glanced at the detective before nodding. "Yes."</p><p>"Would you like to have tea?" Helena asked.</p><p>Molly looked surprised at the offer and repeated as if unsure, "Tea?"</p><p>"On Sunday, maybe? I'll call Mrs Hudson and we can exchange stories about our favourite consulting detective." Helena nodded, ignoring the glowering look thrown her way by Sherlock.</p><p>"Oh. Alright?" Molly agreed, still confused.</p><p>"Good. I'll see you then. The address is 221C, Bakers Street!" Helena called out when the man took her by the shoulder and dragged her out.</p><hr/><p>He was still glowering at her by the time they reached home.</p><p>"What?" she asked, feigning confusion, but behind it all, she felt angry and couldn't understand the reason behind his behaviour. She invited a potential friend for tea. So, what?</p><p>His mouth twisted, eyes showed clear annoyance as he stated, "You're not the one to gossip."</p><p>"Yes?"</p><p>"Why did you invite Molly over?" He demanded, glaring at her.</p><p>Something in his tone made her blink, but she couldn't understand what. All she knew that her patience was wearing thin. She hadn't interfered in his daily life by any means, so what was his problem? With a dour look, she replied, "She seems nice. I like her. There's nothing wrong in making friends."</p><p>"You already have friends!" he told her impatiently.</p><p>"Well, what's wrong in making some more?" she asked through gritted teeth.</p><p>"You don't need them!" He yelled suddenly.</p><p>She flinched before glowering right back, "I can have friends without needing them!"</p><p>"Why? It only makes you more vulnerable." He told her fiercely.</p><p>That made her stop and she asked slowly, "So, what you're saying is one shouldn't have friends because it weakens them?"</p><p>"Yes! Exactly!"</p><p>That was the wrong thing to say because hurt flashed in her eyes as she asked, "Does that mean you're not my friend?"</p><p>Speechless and flabbergasted – Two words, Sherlock never thought he would associate with himself, ever, and he stared at her mutely, for the first time in his life not knowing how to respond.</p><p>She nodded and without another word, stomped towards her flat before opening the door and slamming it shut with a loud bang.</p><p>Sherlock was left staring at it blankly, seemingly baffled by the turn of events.</p><hr/><p>October 4th, 2020</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>EN: The part where Greyback's cannibalism and rape can be too much for some people, but I thought this is an issue that needs attention.</p><p>And yeah, their first fight. Sherlock needs to learn how to share! Not much hope there, though.</p><p>I would love to hear what you think or if you have any suggestion regarding this story or its characters. Positive Criticism is always appreciated unless it is rude or insulting. Have a lovely day. 😊</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter or Sherlock. They belong to their respective authors and writers. This is written for purely entertainment and no money is being made.</p><p>It is obvious that many things have been changed according to my story, but many things are the same as the BBC's Sherlock. I've changed some events accordingly and I'll let you know as we move forward.</p><p>I would like to apologize for any mistakes in advance as I do not have a beta. Please do not copy this story anywhere.</p><p>If you are enjoying this story please leave a review!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>221C</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>Same Day</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>The only sound in the room was crackling of the fire, while she was cosied up in her bed. She had taken both the pain and blood-replenishing potions about an hour ago and was ready to sleep, but for some reason instead of doing just that, she was staring at the photo album glumly.</p><p>They shouldn't have, but Sherlock's words hurt more than she had expected. She didn't know what had happened all those years ago, but he did 'delete' her of his own free will, so it should've been obvious that she hadn't been important. He didn't think of her as a friend. So what? She had many friends and people who loved her. She shouldn't care what he thought of her or if he considered her a friend, but for some annoying reason, it did. It did matter to her that she was so insignificant to the one person who had literally been with her when she was 'no one' – an orphan who everyone hated because she was a 'freak'.</p><p>He had shown her what friendship meant; the boy who made her laugh for the first time in her life; someone who stood up for her when no one else did; who had proudly declared himself her best friend without possibly understanding what it truly meant; who despite knowing about her 'freakishness' became the most important part of her life until… until the horrible day she could never forget.</p><p>She shouldn't be hurting because even after 20 years, the man discarded her like trash again. She should've known it. She did know it would happen again, but being foolish that she was, she'd thought that maybe after such a long time, things would be different. Once again, proving to herself how silly she was.</p><p>Looking down, she traced the picture of the small curly dark-haired boy, who was hugging little Helena as if he would never let go.</p><p>Snorting to herself, she closed the album and it flew back to the shelf.</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>Memory</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>Helena had been 6 the first time she met Sherlock. For some reason, aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon had to take her along when they took Dursley to the zoo and then had left her with a threatening – 'don't wander off, girl!'</em>
</p><p><em>Dudley had tried to make the snake move, but for all intent and purposes, it looked dead. So, u</em> <em>ncle Vernon and Dudley had gone somewhere else because the snake was 'boring'. Now that they were gone, she moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. It wouldn't be a surprise if it had died of boredom – getting disturbed by stupid people all day long. It was worse than her cupboard.</em></p><p>
  <em>The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes and raised its head until it was looking right at her and said, "Yes. It is annoying."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Helena stared before nodding.</em>
</p><p>"<em>Are you talking to the snake?" came a voice and she jerked away from the glass as if burned. Her head snapped towards the boy with curly black hair and grey eyes, standing not far from her, looking at her wide-eyed.</em></p><p>
  <em>She quickly looked around to see if the Dursley's were watching shook before looking back at the boy and shook her head vigorously. If Uncle Vernon found out, she would be in for a thorough beating before they lock her in the cupboard for days on end without any food.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The boy was still watching her so she replied fearfully, hoping he would leave her alone. "I don't know how I did it."</em>
</p><p>"<em>Wow! That's so cool!" he told her excitedly.</em></p><p>
  <em>Her head shrivelled towards him and she gaped.</em>
</p><p>'<em><strong>Did he just? Would that mean he wouldn't tell anyone?'</strong></em></p><p><em>She looked at him suspiciously and asked tentatively, </em> <em>"You think so?"</em></p><p>"<em>Yes." He nodded seriously. "I haven't seen anyone who can do that! Not even Mike!"</em></p><p>
  <em>His eyes were full of wonder as he stared at her with awe and she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. Suddenly, he held his hand out and said, "I'm Sherlock."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She looked between the hand and his face and shook his before murmuring, "Helena."</em>
</p><p>"<em>Can you talk to all animals? Can you teach me?" He fired in rapid succession making her gape, but she didn't get to reply because Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.</em></p><p>"<em>Out of the way, you," he said, and punched her in the ribs, making her fall hard on the concrete floor.</em></p><p>"<em>Hey! Leave her alone!" The boy shouted before pushing Dudley with full force.</em></p><p>
  <em>Dudley stumbled back, looking confused and angry at the same time before shouting, "You're not her friend! She's just a freak!"</em>
</p><p>"<em>She's not!" The boy screamed back. "I'm her friend!"</em></p><p>
  <em>Dudley, who was turning red, glared at the two and shouted, "You're a freak too!" before rushing forward to lean against the glass, peering down at the snake. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened — one second, Dudley was right up close to the glass, the next, he fell forward with a howl of horror. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Helena gasped as the glass front of the snake's tank vanished, but Sherlock was laughing, looking excitedly at her, ignoring how the people throughout the reptile house were screaming and running for the exits.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The snake slid swiftly past her before stopping and in front for a moment and hissed, "Brazil, here I come.… Thanksss, amigo."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Helena nodded dumbly before standing up and stared at Sherlock, who was still laughing and asked slowly, "Are you really my friend?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He nodded earnestly, grinning and she beamed back.</em>
</p><p><em>It wasn't long before his family whisked him away, while Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's eyes promised</em> revenge.</p><hr/><p>"Yoo-hoo!"</p><p>Helena blinked back the memories when she heard Mrs Hudson's voice and called out, "It's open."</p><p>The lady rushed in with a kettle and despite herself, Helena smiled.</p><p>She kept the tray on the table and asked worriedly, "Are you alright? John told me you got hurt on a case today."</p><p>"Just a scratch." She mumbled awkwardly, while her landlady poured a cup, handed it to her and said, "Here. Tea makes everything better."</p><p>Taking the cup with a grateful sigh, Helena said, "Thanks, Mrs Hudson. You're a lifesaver."</p><p>"Oh, don't thank me, dear." The lady replied with a small smile before adding, "Sherlock asked me to bring you a cuppa."</p><p>It was a good thing she hadn't sipped it yet or she would've spat it out.</p><p>"Oh."</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>221B</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>Next Day, Around 4 in the morning</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>Sherlock was playing his violin as he thought about Helena Potter and for the first time, it wasn't related to finding her secret in any way. He knew he would figure it out, but right now, he was only focused on her actions today, which had left him feeling lost, flabbergasted and confused.</p><p>'<em>Can't let my friend die now, can I?' and 'Does that mean you're not my friend?'</em></p><p>The words kept ringing in his ears constantly. She had followed him despite knowing she could get hurt and she had. But why did she follow him? Is that what friends did? Follow you even after knowing that it might end in your death? He'd never had a friend before and it baffled him. He had known what the term 'friend' meant, but he had never been able to understand the sentiments behind it. After all, sentiments were not an advantage!</p><p>He wasn't as clueless when it came to emotions, despite what everyone thought. He knew she had been hurt by his words. She hadn't said a word, but it was clearly written all over her face and it didn't sit well with him. She was – not exactly an idiot like everyone else, she never reacted as everyone else did around him; didn't try to make him do things which he did not want to do like John, Mrs Hudson or everyone else did; never tried to make him feel less because he was different or didn't understand the social norms. She took everything in a stride and didn't turn in a mess like people did when put in a life-threatening situation and unlike everyone else, even John, she was able to keep up with his conversations most of the times, even if she did ignore some half the times.</p><p>And then his mind supplied something which shocked him to his very core and he froze. For the first time, he agreed with Anderson's assessment that Helena indeed was rather attractive. His ventromedial prefrontal cortex did register people as attractive occasionally. It would be stupid for anyone, even him to pretend that his body did not have the same biological urges as others, but he had overpowered them even before he finished uni. So, the revelation came as an eye-opener that he was undeniably captivated by her. And to his utter horror, he realised that it was not because she was an enigma to him.</p><p>No.</p><p>It was everything – from her appearance to the way she could keep up with him like no one he has ever met or the way she was able to tune in from one situation to the other without a blink of an eye or how she was capable to taking care of herself even in dire situations without getting frantic and how she chose to be his 'friend' even when he didn't know what the word exactly meant. The way she dealt with Mycroft and how his brother couldn't blackmail her into doing his bidding was just added bonus.</p><p>He was still frozen when John came yawning from his room 3 hours later.</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>221C</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>Same Day</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>Sherlock's ears perked when he heard voices coming from 221C. One, he recognised well, but the other was of a male he hadn't heard before. He tiptoed downstairs and towards the flat, trying to hear what was being said, hoping to figure out about the weird incidents he had been noticing ever since he met Helena. He peered inside cautiously and noticed Helena and a man hissing furiously to each other, too low for him to hear.</p><p>There was a newspaper in her hand and she was waving it around wildly with her good arm. He tilted his head, focusing on the part where the name of the paper was visible.</p><p>And there it was – <strong>The Daily Prophet</strong>.</p><p>He looked down and yes, he hadn't been wrong! The picture was indeed moving! But what came as a surprise was that this picture was of none other than Helena herself. She seemed angry as she snapped something at whoever took the photo before the photo replayed again and again, and again.</p><p>Under the picture, he read in big bold letters<strong> – Is our Head Auror, The-Girl-Who-Lived, A Cold-Hearted Bitch?</strong></p><p>He blinked. Was that seriously a headline of a newspaper or a magazine article? As he tried to get a closer look, the paper was gone and two pair of eyes were staring right at him. He straightened up and stared right back.</p><p>"Really? Eavesdropping now?" Helena asked irked.</p><p>Sherlock shrugged, not bothering to deny it and looked at the man stonily.</p><p>
  <em>Hazel eyes, blonde, tall, nearly 6' in height. Parents dead. Grew up with his grandparents. Went to the same school as the others – Hogwarts. Athletic built. Plays the same sports as Helena. Have been in the same war. The same weapon was hidden up his right sleeve, like Helena. Easier to access, so definitely because of the profession. Works with Helena. Partners, most probably. Loyal, trustworthy, brave. Standing close together. She's comfortable and relaxed, even when he touched her to calm her down. She tended to maintain her distance from people, she had tensed when John was standing too close that one time. Obviously, the two have been involved romantically in the past. Still on good terms. Dirt under his nails. Worked in the garden this morning. Was called urgently. He too doesn't have a phone.</em>
</p><p>The man looked at him and smiled before asking awkwardly, "Uh… hello. I'm sorry. We didn't see you. Can we help you need anything?"</p><p>Sherlock glared at him, if only because the man was here in his space and asking him stupid questions. Shouldn't he be the one to ask questions? He opened his mouth to fire an insult, but Helena beat him to it.</p><p>"He's just a neighbour." She said with steel in her voice, daring him to deny her claim, making him frown before asking, "Do you need anything?"</p><p>"No." He glowered, scowling at the man behind her for some unknown reason.</p><p>"Good. Now, if you'll excuse us? We're working." She replied coldly before slamming the door in his face for the second time today.</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>221C</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>Later that Evening</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>She was lying on the sofa, idly surfing channels on TV, when someone knocked on the door, making her frown. It wasn't Mrs Hudson, while Sherlock simply was not aware of the concept of knocking. Not for the first time she was thankful for her magic, for she had charmed her door, so the said man wouldn't be able to enter without her permission.</p><p>"Who is it?" she asked.</p><p>"John."</p><p>Frowning to herself, she called, "Come on in."</p><p>The man came in and gave a small smile. He didn't waste any time and like the doctor he was, his eyes zoned in on her arm and he asked, "How're you doing? Any pain?"</p><p>She couldn't tell him about the pain potion, but the doctor had prescribed her pain medication, so shook her head and replied truthfully, "Better. Though I must tell you that the procedure of getting stitches was rather barbaric. They should do something about it."</p><p>Chucking, he stated, "Maybe someday. For now, it's the best we have."</p><p>As they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, Helena realised that the two of them had nothing to talk about without Sherlock being present.</p><p>"So, can I ask why are you sulking?" John asked awkwardly, reminding her of Neville before they dated.</p><p>She scowled and replied too quickly, "I'm not sulking."</p><p>"Hmm…" John mused and arched his brows. "So, it has nothing to do with the man-child pouting upstairs?"</p><p>Despite herself, she snorted, "Man-child?"</p><p>"We both agree with that and don't try to change the subject." He told her sternly before he softened and asked, "What did he do?"</p><p>"Nothing."</p><p>John perused his lips, but took her word and nodded. And just because he was an ass like his flatmate, he threw in casually, "Sherlock asked me to check on you. I'll let him know that you're better now."</p><p>"Don't." She snapped suddenly.</p><p>He looked too innocent as he asked, "What?"</p><p>"Don't try to make me feel guilty." She nearly hissed.</p><p>"I'm not." He shook his head and raised his hands to stop her when she opened her mouth. He chose his words carefully, hoping she would see that the truly meant them when he spoke, "I'm really not. Sherlock, he is… different. In the time I've known him, he has never noticed when I or anyone else is mad at him. And there he is – pouting on his chair."</p><p>He made sure to maintain eye contact as he said this. Once done, he ignored the dirty look thrown his way and said cheerfully, "Tell me where everything is and I'll make you a cuppa."</p><p>With a parting smile, the devious man walked into her kitchen at a leisurely pace, leaving her to do only one thing – bury her face in the cushion and scream.</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>221C</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>A couple of Hours Later</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>She was wearing a loose hand-knitted sweater with a 'P' printed on the front with pyjamas that had ducks printed on them. Once again, her hair was piled on top of her head messily as she glaredat him through her glasses.</p><p>"Oh, good. You're home." He announced, giving her the same smile he'd 'bestowed upon' Molly yesterday and continued, "Come on, I'm taking you out."</p><p>'<em>Pouting my ass!'</em> She thought before her eyes narrowed down to slits and she stated, "I don't think you've noticed, but I'm not talking to you."</p><p>The way he looked at her made her feel like he'd been hit with a <em>'confundus'</em>. "What? Of course, you are."</p><p>She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead before asking tiredly, "What do you want Sherlock?"</p><p>He shifted uncomfortably, making her frown. Then he asked mildly, "I – I was hoping you'd come to the circus with me?"</p><p>Perusing her lips, she peered down the hall and nodded to herself before asking, "Where's John?"</p><p>"He's out on a date." He mumbled grouchily.</p><p>Glaring, she stated unimpressed, "You need an assistant."</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"Have a nice day, Sherlock." She said, ready to slam the door in his face for the second time today, but before she could close it, he placed his hand on the door, stopping her.</p><p>She looked at him impatiently, so he took a deep breath and confessed, "I've never had a friend before."</p><p>As he said this, Helena felt something in her heart clench. He had no memory of her and if Mycroft's words were true, Sherlock never actually had any friend because he was 'different'. He wouldn't say it out loud, but she understood what he was trying to tell her. He didn't know what 'friendship' meant. He had seen with others and factually knew that 'emotions made a person vulnerable', but he couldn't comprehend why someone would want that. He wasn't aware that even if 'love and friendship' make you weak, it gives you more strength than one could possibly imagine.</p><p>"I want coffee, beforehand." Sighing, she stated, because she refused to run all over the city without having something that would help her in dealing with the madness.</p><p>His eyes widened and he looked at her with disbelief, making her realise that he was here on a whim and didn't think she would accept his… offer. At the moment, all she felt for him was sadness. She couldn't imagine her life without her friends because she would be dead if it hadn't been for Ron and Hermione. They had followed her without question even in the war. And here Sherlock didn't even have a friend to call in case he needed.</p><p>Unaware of her inner turmoil, Sherlock schooled his features and raised his brows before asked curiously, "Not tea?"</p><p>"Headache." She informed and he gave a single nod. Satisfied, she said, "Give me a minute. I need to change."</p><p>"Why?" he demanded.</p><p>This time, she did slam the door in his face.</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>Circus</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>They arrived at a building adorned with Chinese style lanterns shortly. They walked in, climbing the steps to the box office when she heard John's voice, "…don't think so. We only booked two."</p><p>"You said John's out on a date!" she hissed at Sherlock.</p><p>"Yes, he is." He told her before walking behind John before she could stop him and said smoothly, "Then I phoned back and got two for ourselves as well."</p><p>John turned back, glaring at his flatmate with disbelief before turning to Helena exasperatedly. "I didn't know." She mouthed silently making John sigh.</p><p>Sherlock meanwhile offered John's date his hand and said, "I'm Sherlock and this is my lovely date, Helena."</p><p>Both Helena and John's head snapped towards the man, gaping at him.</p><p>Sarah glanced at John momentarily, who was still gawking at Sherlock, before she turned back to Sherlock and shook his hand nervously. "Er, hi."</p><p>"Hello," Sherlock said before dragging a stupefied Helena along.</p><p>She rounded in on him as soon as they were out of hearing range and hissed, "What the bloody hell?"</p><p>"What?" he asked confused, making her snap, "We're not on a date!"</p><p>"Of course, we are. I asked you out." He informed her as if she had dementia.</p><p>"No. You said John is out on a date and you require an assistant." She stated.</p><p>"I didn't say that!" He argued.</p><p>"Do you even know what a date is?!" she snapped at him and instantly regretted when his eyes turned cold. "Sorry, that was uncalled for."</p><p>He tilted his head up, but kept his eyes on hers and told her haughtily, "Where two people who like each other go out and have fun." She blinked, unsure what to say, so he spoke for her. "We're friends, so clearly we like each other. Which leads to only one conclusion. That we're on a date."</p><p>"Dear Merlin…" She breathed, staring at him wide-eyed and he frowned.</p><p>"You could've had your little domestic at home!" John snapped angrily.</p><p>"We're not having a domestic!" They hissed at him together.</p><p>John scoffed, but before another argument could break out, he snapped at Sherlock, "You couldn't let me have just one night off?"</p><p>"Yellow Dragon Circus, in London for one day. It fits. The Tong sent an assassin to England…" Sherlock told John, who cut him off and said mockingly, "…dressed as a tightrope walker. Come on, Sherlock, behave!"</p><p>Sherlock looked around before whispering, "Helena was right. We're looking for a killer who can climb, who can shin up a rope. Where else would you find that level of dexterity? Exit visas are scarce in China. They need a pretty good reason to get out of that country. Now, all I need to do is have a quick look around the place…"</p><p>John pointed his thumb in the general direction of the loo, where his date was and said, "Fine. You do that, I'm gonna take Sarah for a pint."</p><p>Sherlock looked back at him said sternly, "Helena's hand isn't in working condition! I need your help."</p><p>"I can still kick both your asses." She told him tersely, earning an eye-roll.</p><p>John ignored her in favour of uttering, "I do have a couple of other things on my mind this evening!"</p><p>Oblivious, Sherlock demanded, "Like what?"</p><p>John and Helena blinked, staring at him agape before John shook his head and asked, "You are kidding."</p><p>Sherlock whispered, "What's so important?"</p><p>Helena's eyes widened when she saw Sarah making her way up behind John's back. She tugged at Sherlock's sleeve and muttered, "Guys?"</p><p>She was ignored as John continued, "Sherlock, I'm right in the middle of a date. You want me to chase some killer while I'm trying to…" he broke off and looked around.</p><p>Still confused, Sherlock asked, "What?"</p><p>Finally, losing his patience, John snapped loudly, "…while I'm trying to get off with Sarah!"</p><p>Helena closed her eyes, not wishing to see the slap that must be coming John's way. Thankfully, Sarah smiled and looked at the three, making John smile awkwardly. "Heyy... Ready?"</p><p>Huffing, Sherlock turned away from the two to head upstairs, grabbed Helena by her left elbow and dragged her along.</p><p>The hall was dimly lit. The large performance area was covered by curtains and a circle of candles had been laid out in the centre of the hall. The crowd was sparse and it seemed like the stage wasn't going to be used as a huge circle of candles had been set in the middle of the floor. There were no seats, so they stood on one side of the circle along with everyone else. Sarah was standing beside John, Helena was just behind Sarah, while Sherlock was standing with his back towards John, looking all around the hall for some clue.</p><p>Keeping his voice low, John turned his head the other way from Sarah and looked over his shoulder to Sherlock before muttering with distaste, "You said circus. This is not a circus. Look at the size of this crowd. Sherlock, this is… art."</p><p>"This is not their day job," Sherlock spoke just as quietly over his shoulder.</p><p>"No, sorry, I forgot. They're not a circus, they're a gang of international smugglers." John snarked back, making Sherlock glare at him.</p><p>"What were you saying about me and Sherlock having 'domestic'?" Helena whispered to John mockingly, who turned to smile at Sarah instead.</p><p>Music wafts throughout the room with the tapping of a tiny hand drum, and finally, Sherlock turned to face the stage. A traditionally costumed Chinese woman with a heavily painted face walked into the centre of the circle before walking across the circle towards a large object covered with a cloth. Pulling it away, she revealed an antique-looking crossbow before picking a long thick wooden arrow with a pointed end standing beside it. After showing it to the audience, she fitted it into place in the crossbow. Then she pulled out a single white feather from her headdress and gently dropped it into a small metal cup kept on the rear of the crossbow. It set the arrow off as it whizzed across the room. It was fast, but being a seeker, Helena was able to track it without difficulty. By the time others looked at it, the arrow was embedded in a large painted board on the other side of the circle.</p><p>With a hand over her heart, Sarah turned towards John and laughed; Sherlock almost rolled his eyes and Helena had to look down to keep herself from crackling like a madwoman.</p><p>As the music began again. a masked man appeared as part of the act, making the audience applaud. He was wearing a head mask and he held his arms out before he was strapped with heavy metal chains against the board.</p><p>"Classic Chinese escapology act." Sherlock leaned closer and informed before looking at three blank faces and explained, "The crossbow is on a delicate string. The warrior has to escape his bonds before it fires."</p><p>The man was chained tightly as the Opera Singer loaded another arrow. The music began again before the cymbals crash unexpectedly, making Sarah jump and clinging onto John's arm. Helena bought her left hand up, resting the elbow on the palm of her right one and cover her lips with her fingers. She shared a look with Sherlock, who himself was rolling his eyes at the display.</p><p>"She splits the sandbag; the sand pours out. Gradually, the weight lowers into the bowl." Sherlock told them softly.</p><p>The Opera Singer did exactly that – she plunged the knife into a bag of sand before splitting it open. The sand begins pouring out. Gradually, the weight lowers to the trigger of the crossbow, while the man still struggled to free himself. As soon as it reached the bowl, the masked man pulled free just as the arrow streaked across the room. He ducked down at the same time the arrow hits the board. The warrior cried out in triumph and the audience began the applause.</p><p>Helena glanced beside her and sighed when she noticed that Sherlock was nowhere in sight. Even John looked around before raising a questioning brow at her and she shook her head. She looked around for him, but her eyes fell on the masked acrobat who descended from the ceiling with the help of red strips that were wrapped around him. Tilting her head unconsciously, she wondered if this was their murderer, but shook her head. She needed to find Sherlock. The man was more danger prone than she'd ever been and with a huff, she tiptoed away from the crowd.</p><p>She made her way towards the backstage, hoping she'd find him there. He'd search for clues and what could be better than the performer's room? She cast a nonverbal 'notice-me-not' charm around herself when the Opera Singer exited the hall and entered the dressing room. She followed the lady quietly and side-stepped in the shadows, waiting for her to leave. She was checking her phone when one of the hangers fell onto the floor and the lady turned towards the sound sharply. Helena cursed again at the 'cast' on her hand. Why did it have to be her right hand? Making sure her wand was safe and within reach, she waited, but thankfully left without checking what it was.</p><p>Once she was gone, she heard Sherlock's voice. "Found you." He sang, sounding mighty pleased with himself before pushing through the clothes on the rail and walking over to the dressing table. Bending down a bit, he sprayed the same yellow paint over the mirror, which had been sprayed in every picture hanging over his fireplace.</p><p>Then, he stopped and looked into the mirror at something behind him, when suddenly, previously thought to be a prop, attacked Sherlock. Unsure what to do, she watched as the attacker lashed out at Sherlock with a huge silver blade, who ducked backwards to avoid the blow. By the time, she looked around and picked a metal rod lying in the corner, Sherlock had hit the man with the tin can he had been holding, which turned out to be useless, as the man blocked the blow and punched Sherlock hard in the stomach, making him groan with pain.</p><p>"Duck!" She yelled and Sherlock obliged.</p><p>She threw the metal rod straight at the man's head, who fell back with a grunt of pain.</p><p>"Amazing throw." Sherlock praised, clearly surprised that she could manage a throw even with her left hand.</p><p>She grinned before muttering automatically, "Thanks. Wood always said I could be a beater."</p><p>The man jumped back up before charging at Sherlock again and grabbed him by the throat. Realising he had a spray-can in hand, Sherlock sprayed it directly onto the masked face and shoved him away firmly. The man landed on his back, but raised his legs and rolled before flipping to his feet again. Grabbing Sherlock's scarf, the masked man pulled him in a chokehold, trying to strangle him. Sherlock grabbed his scarf, trying to relieve the pressure when suddenly it was gone.</p><p>Helena didn't waste time. After blasting the man, who had propelled down the hall through the curtains, she glanced at Sherlock, who was breathing harshly, but was fine, she jumped after the man. She hid her wand hastily. It was different in front of Sherlock, but using magic in front of a whole crowd? That would certainly land her in court and possibly in Azkaban!</p><p>John rushed towards the masked man without a second thought and pushed him back, but somehow the man still managed to lash out with his foot and sent John stumbling across the room.</p><p>'<em>What the bloody hell does he eat?' </em>Helena thought as he charged and backhanded her hard across the face. The force of it off-balanced her and she fell on the floor. She blinked, feeling a bit winded when she saw the man charging towards her with another huge-sword.</p><p>'<em>Use magic or die? Well, not much of a choice, was there?'</em></p><p>He raised the sword above his head to deliver the killing blow as she snapped her eyes shut and let her magic loose. She could feel it flowing in waves; could feel it hitting the man with enough force to shock someone and stop their heart and she felt when the man's breath left him and he scummed to the shock.</p><p>She was ready for the backlash, for people's hatred or maybe more, but when none of that happened, she opened her eyes and saw Sherlock standing just above her, with an iron rod in hand. Her eyes involuntarily went to the body and she grimaced. It was clear that even though he had hit the man on his head, she had landed the killing blow.</p><p>Sherlock kneeled next to her and grabbed her shoulders in both his hands, making her wince. There was a red handprint across her cheek and her lower lip was bleeding. The anger he felt bubbling inside was new and he wasn't ready to examine it at the moment.</p><p>He looked into her eyes and asked urgently, "Are you alright?"</p><p>She didn't respond verbally but nodded. It was good enough. Everything could wait, right now though, they needed to leave.</p><p>"We need to go." He suggested to John, who nodded.</p><p>Sherlock pulled her up and dragged her towards the exit. She didn't protest.</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>Somewhere in London</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>Once sure they weren't being followed, Sherlock stopped in an alleyway, breathing heavily. John and Sarah were in the same condition, but not Helena. No, she wasn't out of breath as the three of them, nor was she panicking, at least not like John and Sarah.</p><p>"Did – did you – just kill someone – at a circus?" John asked Sherlock and Helena's gaze snapped towards the man with a confused frown. She had been the one to kill the man, not Sherlock, but suddenly it hit her what must've happened. She'd been lying on the floor without any weapon. She hadn't used her wand. It had been Sherlock who'd hit the man with an iron rod on the head. Her 'blow' had been invisible, unlike Sherlock's and for all intent and purposes, it certainly looked like he'd been the one to kill him.</p><p>"He was going to kill Helena, John. What do you propose I should've done?" Sherlock snapped, feeling vexed.</p><p>That had Helena turning her wide-eyed gaze towards him because no matter what it looked like to others, Sherlock must know he didn't kill someone. He must know the force he'd put while hitting the man, and from what she saw, it was enough to break the man's jaw and teeth, but it wasn't meant to kill.</p><p>"Not kill the man!" John said dreadfully, while Sarah was nearly dry heaving with panic.</p><p>"Will you just shut up for a moment?!" Sherlock nearly yelled before he took her by the shoulders and moved quite a bit away from John or Sarah before turning towards her.</p><p>"Are you alright?" he asked and she didn't miss there was something soft in his voice and he seemed worried.</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>He looked at her imploringly, assessing to see whether she was telling the truth or not, while she did the same before asking, "Why did you lie to John?"</p><p>"What are you talking about? Why would I lie?" He asked seriously, but the look he gave her would've fooled anyone else, but not her.</p><p>'<em>Why was he lying? He knew it would put him in shit-load of trouble, despite the fact who his brother was!'</em></p><p>She shook her head at him and said, "We both know it wasn't you…"</p><p>"Of course, it was me! How do you think he died? You didn't have a weapon and I hit him with a rod." He snapped frustratedly, but it was clear in his eyes that he was lying.</p><p>'<em>Maybe because there was no evidence that she'd even moved, let alone killed someone, but she wasn't going to let him take the blame… not of this.'</em></p><p>"Uhh… guys?" John mumbled but was ignored, again.</p><p>"We both know the pressure you applied wasn't enough to kill someone!" She snapped back before adding determinedly, "You shouldn't be held accountable for my deeds."</p><p>"You were there because of me!" He told her furiously, at least accepting she wasn't wrong.</p><p>"I won't let you suffer for something you didn't do!" She hissed back.</p><p>"GUYS!"</p><p>John's voice made the two blink and they realised that sometime during their little squabble, they've moved closer and were in each other's space, literally. But this wasn't why John was upset. No. Both Sherlock and Helena noticed at the same time that the street lights around them were flickering. There was a gust of wind which stopped just as soon as it has started.</p><p>"Time to face the music," Helena mumbled, making Sherlock look back at her. They hadn't moved and were still standing close, but neither moved away.</p><p>"Wh-what's happening?" John asked uneasily, holding onto Sarah or was it the other way around? Helena couldn't tell.</p><p>A tall figure appeared at the end of the alley and Sherlock readied himself, moving in front of everyone slowly until he heard Helena's voice behind him. "Oh! Thank Merlin, it's you."</p><p>He pretty much felt as she slumped with relief before rushing from behind him and flinging herself into the man's arms like a damsel in distress. Sherlock scowled, again feeling out of the loop as the man hugged her back before asking jokingly, "Who else do you think was it going to be?"</p><p>He didn't waste his time as he deduced that this man worked with Helena as well, went to Hogwarts and had the same weapon hidden in his robes. Narrowing his eyes, Sherlock asked rudely, "How did you find us?"</p><p>As Helena pulled away, the man looked at him and supplied easily, "I walked."</p><p>Sherlock walked closer to the man, offered his hand and introduced himself, "Sherlock Holmes."</p><p>The man looked down at Helena as if for confirmation before shaking his hand. "Oliver Wood."</p><p>"You work with Helena." Sherlock stated, keeping his eyes on Oliver, who nodded, but before he could say or ask something, Helena looked at him and asked, "How much trouble am I in?"</p><p>"Kings said and I quote, <em>'It's a good thing I don't have hair or I would've lost it because of Potter!" </em>Wood mimicked, making her wince. He, then pointed towards her face and the cast on hand before asking, "What happened?"</p><p>"I got a cut and they <strong>sew</strong> me," Helena told him dramatically, making Sherlock roll his eyes; John and Sarah just gaped.</p><p>"SEW? With a needle?!" Oliver's eyes widened with horror and gasped, "That – that's ghastly!"</p><p>"I said the same thing! They treat all their patients like this! Apparently, it's a common procedure." Helena replied gravely.</p><p>John couldn't hold any longer and yelled, "Are you seriously having such a ridiculous conversation after… after… There were people! And cameras! By now the police must be looking for Sherlock!"</p><p>Oliver gave him half a smile and said placatingly, "Don't worry about it, mate. We have it covered."</p><p>Behind his back, Sherlock clasped his gloved hands and stared quietly, not wanting to interrupt, knowing they would say something which would let him know what exactly was it that these people did!</p><p>"Covered? Covered?! How in the bloody hell can you have it covered within 15 minutes?" John snapped agitatedly.</p><p>Helena looked at John and said, "John, this is what we do. Oliver and I have been working together for about 10 years now."</p><p>"Zach and Susan are taking care of it." Oliver told Helena, who nodded as he continued, "The good thing is, the place was almost deserted by the time, uh… the man died. You didn't use the wand, so no one really knows what happened. The memory of what happened was changed. The official report says that the man died after falling. No harm done!"</p><p>John shook his head confused and asked, "What do you mean the memory of what happened was changed?"</p><p>In the blink of an eye, Oliver pointed, what he now knew to be 'a wand' similar to Helena's at John and mumbled, "Obliviate."</p><p>Before Sherlock could register what had happened, a bright light hit John square in the face and the man slumped down on the ground, making Sarah shriek with fright. She tried to run, but the same light hit her and she too, fell on the ground.</p><p>Sherlock stared shell shocked at the stick which was not pointed at him but he couldn't outrun it and they both had the stick or wand. How did it work? And what was it that these people did? To say that he was surprised when Helena leapt between him and the man holding the stick would be an understatement. If the widening of his eyes was anything to go by, the man himself was surprised.</p><p>"Not him." She told the man firmly.</p><p>He looked dubious, looking from her to him before asking, "Are you sure?"</p><p>Helena gave a vigorous nod.</p><p>Sighing, the man lowered the stick and said, "Kingsley won't be happy."</p><p>She snorted. "When is he ever happy?"</p><p>Sherlock looked towards John, who was waking up from whatever the man had done before turning towards Oliver and Helena and snapped furiously, "What did you do?"</p><p>Helena rubbed her forehead and mumbled, "Changed the memory. It won't harm him in any way. They'll just think that the attacker hit his head after falling and died."</p><p>"Don't worry, mate. They're fine. Won't remember anything." Oliver added, hoping to placate the man, but it had the opposite effect.</p><p>Sherlock leaned back, observing the two for some time before demanding, "How?"</p><p>Oliver shared a look with Helena before shrugging and replied, "It's a memory charm and is used to erase specific memories from an individual's mind before the false memories are created. And before you ask anymore, we cannot tell you. At least not right now. It'll get us in trouble."</p><p>Sherlock promptly closed his mouth as his mind whirled as it had never before. There were so many questions in his mind and he wasn't sure which one to ask for! Who were these people? How could a memory of another person be changed? He knew the mind could be tricked into thinking or believing entirely something else, but doing it with the help of a 'stick' was impossible! But he had seen it with his own eyes. Did they have some kind of technology that was able to manipulate the human mind? He was practically bursting with questions! The first one being, did Mycroft know?</p><p>He looked at them and asked the most important thing, "Does Mycroft know?"</p><p>Huffing at his priorities, Helena replied, "Not exactly. He is aware of the basic things that concern England in general, but other than that, no."</p><p>That made him frown. Now, more questions arose but Oliver placed his hand on her shoulder and said, "We need the memory. You know its standard procedure."</p><p>Helena nodded at Oliver before turning towards him. Closing the distance between them, she hugged Sherlock. He stiffened at the gesture feeling muddled. His hands stayed by his sides, not knowing what to do with them, but thankfully, she whispered in his ear, "Go home. I'll answer every question you have once I'm done."</p><p>She pulled back just as quickly and looked at him. He was still as stiff as a board but nodded once.</p><p>"They'll be waking up any second now." She told him and just on the clue, there was a groan from John.</p><p>Clearing his throat, Oliver said to Helena, "Alright. Let's go to Mungo's first."</p><p>The two walked towards the end of the alleyway and had vanished before Sherlock reached them.</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>Somewhere in London</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>He had asked John and Sarah to back to the flat after making sure that they were fine if a bit disgruntled. True to words, none of the two remembered what had happened at the circus. They knew the man had died after 'falling and Helena had been called to work'. How had the man done that? He needed to find out more about the school where they were taught and the stick which was their main weapon. Despite hating that there were individuals out there who could play with his mind without his knowledge, he was also curious as to why Helena hadn't let the man take away his memories? Shouldn't it have been easier? She had killed a man without using 'the stick', so maybe it was something else? She had been right as he hadn't put enough force to kill their attacker, but just to stop him for the time being. How had she done that?</p><p>He wasn't sure how he felt about the whole 'situation', but despite everything, she had followed him again and had almost died again. She hadn't stopped Oliver from taking John's memories, so why him? No matter how much his racked his mind, he couldn't figure it out. There couldn't be an ulterior motive, could there? What would she gain from manipulating him when she had more resources than Mycroft himself? By now, one thing he was sure about – this organisation was not connected with the British government, for the most part. Which explained why Mycroft hadn't been able to do anything about Helena.</p><p>A black car stopped beside him and he rolled his eyes, but his curiosity got better of him and he got in.</p><p>"You're getting tardy." He mocked even before he looked at his brother.</p><p>Mycroft huffed but didn't waste any time. Looking straight into Sherlock's eyes, he asked seriously, "Would you listen if I… ask you, not to get involved?"</p><p>Sherlock raised an eyebrow and asked innocently, "Involved in what?"</p><p>"Let's not pretend, dear brother," Mycroft stated sternly. "With Miss Potter or anything connected to her."</p><p>"Why?" he asked inquisitively.</p><p>"She's… different." Was the reply and Sherlock scowled, "Different how?"</p><p>"You must've realised by now that she and her… friends are – not like us," Mycroft told him tiredly.</p><p>Sherlock observed his brother, who had his lips pinched in a thin line and he looked like he had swallowed piss. An expression usually reserved when things did not go the way he wanted. He raised his chin, somewhat surprised and declared, "You're not allowed to say."</p><p>As always, Mycroft's reply was cryptic as he said, "You know how I always say that people are like 'goldfish'? Well, for her kind… we're the goldfish."</p><p>Now this – this excited Sherlock. His eyes glittered as he leaned closer to his brother unconsciously and asked, "Her kind?"</p><p>"They think of themselves as the – superior race, even if I do not agree," Mycroft replied sardonically.</p><p>Sherlock glowered at yet another arcane reply and mocked childishly, "Round and round and round…"</p><p>Mycroft was not amused and warned grimly, "Don't get involved, Sherlock!"</p><p>This was as close to begging as Mycroft could come and Sherlock was surprised. The brothers stared at each other unrelentingly, where instead of replying, Sherlock looked away moodily. He opened the door, ready to leave when Mycroft tried one last time, "She has enemies. People, even I cannot go against."</p><p>Irked, Sherlock looked over his shoulder and asked, "Why do you even care?"</p><p>"As I've said before – I worry about you, constantly," Mycroft replied emotionlessly, but his voice was soft as he looked at Sherlock, knowing his brother would not listen.</p><p>As soon as Sherlock got out of the car, he slammed the door shut. Within seconds, the car was gone.</p><p>Glaring at the back of the car, Sherlock realised that he was already involved. Deeply involved.</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>221B</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>Half an Hour Later</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>Sherlock was staring at the pictures over the fireplace when she entered the flat. The place was full of boxes filled with books and more books. She ignored the occupants for now and put the glass jar she had been holding on the table. Noticing, that the couch was nearly empty, she pushed the books lying on it down the floor and slumped sideways onto it with a tired sigh.</p><p>She had never been up here without reason, so if John or Sherlock were surprised, they didn't show it.</p><p>"You're back early," Sherlock stated, not missing that both her arm and the cut she had on her lip were healed. She no longer was supporting a hand-print on her cheek.</p><p>Helena grunted in acknowledgement, not in the mood to deal with anything else after the day she'd had.</p><p>John looked at Sherlock, who was staring at Helena like she was a client and shook his head. He looked back at her asked, "What happened to the man?</p><p>That made her turn her head and she asked grumpily, "The man?"</p><p>John raised his brows and reminded, "Yes, the one who died? You were handling his case, weren't you?"</p><p>She slumped back, her face mushed into the cushion and mumbled, "Uh… yeah. I have to be at the wizengamot the day after tomorrow."</p><p>"Wizengamot?" Sherlock asked sharply.</p><p>"Court." Came another muffled reply.</p><p>Sherlock was about to ask more, when Sarah, who was hovering close to John and asked awkwardly, "You're not in trouble, are you?"</p><p>Helena shook her head. "Of course, not. It's not really much of a case now, is it?"</p><p>Glaring daggers at John's date, Sherlock nodded towards the glass box and asked, "What's that?"</p><p>Walking closer, he saw that it looked like a worm, slimy, ten-inches long and brown in colour. Something he had never heard about before. He wouldn't delete information about a being, so how had he not heard about it before?</p><p>"A nasty flobberworm." She sat up and glared at it like she was going to set it on fire with her eyes. Leaning closer to the jar, she asked, "How long can a worm live in the fridge without food?"</p><p>"You're not going to feed it?" Sarah choked-out horrified.</p><p>Helena looked at her and said with a dark smile, "I was planning to burn it slowly, but keeping it alive seems like a better idea."</p><p>John and Sarah stared like she was mental, while Sherlock contemplated something before asking, "What did it do?"</p><p>"Nothing. I just don't need to worry about the Prophet anymore." Helena beamed, making Sherlock blink. He knew for certain that <em>'Prophet'</em> was the newspaper he'd seen twice now. What he didn't understand was what did a worm had to do with the said paper. Leaning closer, he narrowed his eyes in concentration before looking up at Helena perplexed.</p><p>Taken aback, he asked, "Is it – wearing glasses?"</p><p>"Oh, yes. It's a special worm. Weak eyes and all that…" She waved her hand offhandedly and he gaped along with John and Sarah.</p><p>There was nothing but silence as the three stared from the worm to Helena before Sarah cleared her throat, took a few steps towards the door and said, "Well, I think perhaps I should leave you to it."</p><p>John turned to her and shook his head, "No. No, you don't have to go. Stay." At the same time Sherlock looked pointedly at Sarah and said, "Yes, it would be better to study if you left now."</p><p>Sherlock looked over his shoulder to John, who glared at him darkly before turning back towards the girl.</p><p>"He's kidding. Please stay if you'd like." John said and Helena observed exchange with something akin to pity for 'poor John'.</p><p>Sarah looked between the two nervously before turning to look at Helena, who hastily stared down at the worm, transfixed. Sarah looked back at Sherlock and smiled awkwardly and tried in a friendly manner, "Is it just me or is anyone else starving?"</p><p>"Oh, God," Sherlock muttered and despite he didn't look away from the pictures, Helena could practically see him rolling his eyes exasperatedly.</p><hr/><p>John opened an almost empty fridge and sighed when he saw the eyeball before closing the door.</p><p>Sherlock was sitting on the chair of the study table which was littered with photos, notes and drawings of various cyphers. Helena was standing at the other side of the table, trying to figure out a way to help the man, hopefully without magic. He was rummaging through the papers faster than she could ever hope to do, discarding the ones he'd gone through towards her; consciously or not, she didn't know as she tried to stay out of his way, knowing how he could be if interrupted in the middle of a case.</p><p>Focused on their work, the two ignored Sarah, who was standing in front of the mirror, looking at all the images and notes stuck at the mirror. Hands in the pockets of her skirt, she looked at the back of Sherlock's head and mused, "So, this is what you do? You solve puzzles for a living."</p><p>Sherlock looked miffed but didn't turn around as he replied, "Consulting Detective."</p><p>"Oh." She walked over to Sherlock and looked over his shoulder. Leaning down a bit, she pointed at the paper and asked, "What are these squiggles?"</p><p>Once again, Sherlock blinked, looking as if he was trying very hard not to throw her out and told her testily, "They're numbers. An ancient Chinese dialect."</p><p>"Oh, right! Yeah, well, of course, I should have known that!" Sarah said, nodding to herself.</p><p>Helena frowned at the photograph which Dimmock had brought back sealed in an evidence bag. She took it out before opening it and her eyes widened at what she saw. A word had been written across each of the first two sets of symbols on the photograph. Bless Soo Lin, now the case would be solved much easier than they had anticipated.</p><p>She looked up to see Sherlock glaring at Sarah, who apparently had picked up a photo he'd been studying. He had his teeth bared in a way that reminded her of Sirius and his hands were clenched in fists, looking like he was contemplating picking the girl and throwing her out the window.</p><p>"Uh… Sherlock?" she called slowly; at the same time Sarah asked oblivious of the man's ire, "Eh, so these numbers, it's a cypher?"</p><p>"Exactly." He replied through gritted teeth, even though he threw Helena a look which screamed, – <em>'Don't be dull! Get on with it!'</em></p><p>Huffing, she put the picture in front of him and said, "Look… Soo Lin Yao has already translated two words."</p><p>Picking up the photo hastily, he stared at it before shouting, "John! We didn't see it!"</p><p>John came out of the kitchen and stared at the photo as Sherlock reads out-loud, "Nine mill."</p><p>John squinting down at it and asked, "Does that mean millions?"</p><p>"Nine million quid. For what?" Sherlock mumbled and turned around to grab his scarf and coat. "We need to know the end of this sentence."</p><p>"Where are you going?" John asked.</p><p>"To the museum; to the restoration room." Putting his coat on, he pulled a face and yelled at himself, "Oh, we must have been staring right at it!"</p><p>John looked at him and asked confused, "At-at what?"</p><p>"The book, John. The book. The key to cracking the cipher!" He waved the photo at John and continued, "Soo Lin used it to do this! Whilst we were running around the gallery, she started to translate the code. It must be on her desk."</p><p>With that, he was out the door and gone.</p><p>Helena and John share a bemused look before she picked up the glass jar and said, "I'll be in my flat… hoping I'll get a nap before he disrupts it again."</p><p>With that, she too was gone, leaving John to clean up the mess that had become his date.</p><hr/><p>Sherlock rushed into his flat shouting, "John! Helena! I've got it! The cipher, the book. It's the London A-Z that they're usi…"</p><p>He stopped short, staring with open-mouthed horror at the yellow paint that had been sprayed across the windows. His eyes filter around uselessly looking for any sigh of Helena, John or Sarah when he noticed that the glass jar had been gone. Without thinking, he rushed downstairs, hoping that she would be in her flat.</p><p>"Helena! Helena!" He yelled, pounding on her door. "Helena!"</p><p>She opened the door looking alarmed and asked, "What is it?"</p><p>The first thing he noticed was that she was freshly showered and had changed into her pyjamas. That's why she didn't hear when they took John. The second was the 'wand'. The piece of wood was clutched tightly in her fist.</p><p>"They've taken John." He said and rushed back upstairs.</p><p>"What?!" she gasped, following after him and asked, "What about Sarah?"</p><p>"Oh, yes. Her too." He said, hurrying over to the bookshelf. "Tramway."</p><p>He looked all over it before muttering under his breath, "Oh, Christ."</p><p>Pulling the map of London out, he spread it on the table and looked all over it before pointing with his finger, "There."</p><p>He turned around to head out, but was stopped when Helena held his hand and stated, "Show me the exact spot."</p><p>Baffled, he gaped at her. <em>'He knew she wasn't this stupid.'</em></p><p>"We need to hurry!" he stated in annoyance.</p><p>"I know how to reach there faster! Show me the exact place, please." She said, making him stare at her questionably. He knew every street of London and knew there was no shorter way. For the first time, he looked at her doubtfully.</p><p>She looked at him imploringly and all but begged, "Look, I know how it seems right now, but please trust me this once. I won't let you down. John is my friend too."</p><p>Dubiously, he nodded and pointed at the tramway.</p><p>Once she was certain where the place was, she said to him seriously, "Whatever you're going to see, you can't tell anyone. Not even John." She didn't wait for his reply and warned, "This won't be pleasant."</p><p>She closed the distance between them and held onto his shoulders tightly.</p><p>Startled, his eyes widened as he stared down at her and asked confused, "What are you doing?"</p><p>Staring into his eyes, she whispered, "Hold me and don't let go."</p><p>"Why?" he frowned.</p><p>"I quite like you. Don't want to leave half of you behind." She told him seriously and his eyes widened even more.</p><p>Noticing that she was serious, he moved his hands and held her waist slowly. Still unable to think why instead of taking the cab, he was holding her like the foolish couples did. How would this help in getting John faster?</p><p>"Don't let go…. And close your eyes." She whispered, bringing his thoughts to a halt as in the next second, everything went black and through no fault of his own, he slammed his eyes shut and pulled her closer. It felt as if he was being forced through a very tight rubber tube, there was a tightening around his chest and he could not breathe, so, he hid his face in her mess of curls as his hands clutched her even tighter.</p><p>Then suddenly, he tumbled and slammed to a stop. He was still clinging to her with all his might when she asked slowly, "You're not going to hurl, are you?"</p><p>He pulled away from her, ready to inform her that he was fine, but his need to breathe stopped him. His knees wobbled and he held onto the nearest wall for support so he wouldn't faceplant on the road when suddenly he realised that they weren't in his apartment anymore. As he looked around, still unable to speak for some reason, he realised that they were just outside the tramway.</p><p>The same tramway he knew John was in.</p><p>He looked at Helena wide-eyed and gasped, "Ho – how?"</p><p>"Uh…" was the eloquent reply.</p><p>"Did we – just – teleported?" Flabbergasted, he asked.</p><p>Now, she panicked, so in lieu of changing the topic, she asked, "You are all there, aren't you?"</p><p>Shocked and horrified, he gaped, so she said placatingly, "It's only at times when some of your body parts are left behind. Though, it has never been me."</p><p>"This how you disappeared the other day." He mused before swallowing. He took a deep breath, feeling like himself again and demanded, "How did you teleport?"</p><p>His tone made her fidget, but she straightened and said, "Look, I'll answer all the questions you have to the best of my ability once John and Sarah are safe."</p><p>Reluctantly, he agreed because right now, saving John was his prime concern, but he would get everything out of her once they were done here. Determined, he walked towards the darkened tramway, when he was stopped by her voice.</p><p>"You cannot tell anyone, Sherlock."</p><p>He looked over at her and for some unknown reason, found himself nodding.</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>Tramway</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>"…distant moonlit shores of NW1, we present for your pleasure Sherlock Holmes' pretty companion in a death-defying act." They the Opera Singer's voice, which turned out to be Shan. Peaking around they noticed Sarah tied-up in front of the same machine they had seen at the circus.</p><p>"Can you do something?" Sherlock whispered to her; eyes focused on the scene in front of him.</p><p>She shook her head and whispered back, "Too risky."</p><p>"I'm not Sherlock Holmes!" They heard John's frantic shout.</p><p>"Distract them. I'll take care of the lackeys." She told him and was gone before he could say something, making him blink blankly at the space she'd been standing at.</p><p>"I don't believe you," Shan said.</p><p>With a muttered curse, Sherlock stepped out of the shadow and called, "You should, you know."</p><p>John sighed with relief when he saw the familiar silhouette at the far end of the tunnel.</p><p>"Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him."</p><p>Turning around, Shan raised her pistol and aimed it towards him. But he immediately dodged to the side, disappearing into the shadows again. The big one of the two guys, ran towards him, but Sherlock continued, "How would you describe me, John? Resourceful? Dynamic? Enigmatic?"</p><p>"Late?" John said impatiently.</p><p>Helena rolled her eye at the two and moved towards John slowly. The movement caught his eye and she motioned for him to stay quiet with a finger on her lips. She didn't want to alarm the thugs as the machine could be triggered with a hair's breadth. Also, she needed to make sure John or Sarah wouldn't find out about magic. She already had a hearing at wizengamot, she didn't want another sword hanging over her or John's head.</p><p>"That's a semi-automatic. If you fire it, the bullet will travel at over a thousand meters per second." Sherlock said.</p><p>"Well?" Shan asked, aiming her pistol towards the shadows.</p><p>"Well…"</p><p>There was a THUMP and Helena looked where the big guy had been standing. Sherlock had hit the man across his stomach, possibly with a metal pipe. The man collapsed with a loud grunt and Sherlock ducked back into the shadow before Stan could fire<em>. </em>"…the radius curvature of these walls is nearly four meters. If you miss, the bullet will ricochet. Could hit anyone. Might even bounce off the tunnel and hit you."</p><p>As soon as Helena reached behind John, she tugged at his hand slowly to let him know not to make any movement.</p><p>Pointing her wand towards the ropes tied above his hands and whispered, "Diffindo."</p><p>The rope fell off and surprised, John pulled his hands instantly, but Helena held them with her own, stopping him. His ankles were still tied to the legs of the chair and it wouldn't do them any favour if they alarmed Stan or Liang. They needed to get Sarah out of the chair and fast.</p><p>Sherlock burst out of the darkness and kicked the nearby dustbin which was burning. There was a loud crash and Shan's eyes widen, realizing that it's now impossible to see the tunnel clearly.</p><p>As Helena freed John, Sherlock rushed behind Sarah and started undoing the ropes that were binding her.</p><p>Looking around, Helena noticed Stan turning around at the end of the tunnel, trying to escape. And without a second thought, Helena rushed after her. Turning around the corner, Helena saw Stan in a car, about to escape, so she pointed her wand at the woman and shouted, "Petrificus Totalus!"</p><p>She froze in the driver's seat with her hands on the steering wheel, eyes whirling around frantically. Nodding to herself, she rushed back inside in time to see Sherlock struggling against Soo Lin's brother as the man had a red scarf coiled around his throat and was trying to strangle him.</p><p>John meanwhile was trying to untie Sarah's ropes, who was dry-heaving and not in any state to help. Her eyes were staring pointedly at the arrow above her and then to the sandbag, which by now was almost near the metal cup on the crossbow.</p><p>He was untying her second ankle and Helena's eyes widened when she realised that once Sarah was no longer in the way, the arrow would hit either Sherlock or Liang. She didn't have enough time to run towards them, so she apparated directly behind Sherlock, pointed her wand at the red scarf and muttered, "Diffindo!"</p><p>It was torn in two as she looped her arms around Sherlock tightly. Even though he did stiffen, he relaxed as soon as he heard her voice whispering in his ear urgently, "Close your eyes!" and for once, didn't argue, possibly because his eyes were trained on the red scarf.</p><p>John took Sarah and jumped to the side. The chair she'd been sitting on fell, just as the arrow flew. Helena disapparated before apparating on the other side at the same time the arrow buried itself in Liang's stomach. He grunted; his face filled with shock as he toppled on the ground.</p><p>She pulled away as soon as they landed, making Sherlock stumble. Groaning at the way his stomach lurched, he doubled over with his hands on the knees and breathed harshly. Grimacing, Helena rubbed his back, hoping it would soothe him if nothing else.</p><p>"You were there," John said suddenly, making the two turn towards their friend. "…weren't you? How did you get here so fast?"</p><p>"Don't – ask – stupid – questions, John!" Sherlock breathed out, making John huff as he held onto a shivering Sarah. Then, to everyone's surprise, he looked at the girl and whispered, "You're going to be all right. It's over now."</p><p>Right now, he reminded Helena so much of the boy she knew, that she blinked up at him feeling confounded as Sherlock looked around, his eyes searched the area for something before bemoaning angrily, "Stan. She got away."</p><p>"No, I managed to tie her up. She's in the car outside." Helena replied hazily.</p><p>Two heads turned towards her, staring with disbelief.</p><p>"When did you manage to do that?!" Perplexed, John asked slowly.</p><p>She shrugged uncomfortably, making John frown, but Sherlock hurried outside and the three followed. When they reached outside, they noticed that the door of the passenger side was open and Sherlock was searching for something. As Helena moved closer, her eyes widened when she saw that even though Stan was still in the same position she'd been in before, still holding onto the steering wheel and eyes wide but there was no a sign of life in them. The windshield of the car was cracked and there was a bullet hole in her forehead.</p><p>"I – I don't…" Helena started but was cut off when Sherlock told her sharply, "Of course, you didn't know. Someone shot her because she got caught."</p><p>She looked at him, noticing that there was something in his eyes… something she couldn't decipher, so she simply nodded.</p><hr/><p>After his talk with Dimmock, Sherlock innocently advised John, "Why don't you drop Sarah home? She must be traumatised."</p><p>"Yes, yes." John turned towards Sarah who was still looking a bit shaken and asked, "Why don't I take you home?"</p><p>She nodded and the two hailed a cab before leaving.</p><p>Helena's eyes narrowed when he turned towards her and demanded readily, "How do you teleport? How do you change memories? How does the stick work? Tell me!"</p><p>"Merlin's beard!" She snapped, making him blink at the unusual exclamation. "I haven't slept for nearly 2 days now. I'm starving and in case you've missed, I'm not really in a state to answer your questions!"</p><p>"You are hungry?"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>Surprising her again, he asked softly, "Dinner?"</p><p>Her mouth fell open before she uttered, "Dinner? It's 4' in the morning."</p><p>"There's a good Italian at the end of the road. Stays open all night." He informed quietly, still staring at her.</p><p>She nodded and followed him when he started walking towards the restaurant. There was silence for a couple of seconds before she said cheekily, "You'll be paying, won't you? Seeing as we are on a date."</p><p>He rolled his eyes at her, but his ears did turn red and he did end up paying the bill, stating that they were on a 'date', much to Helena's surprise.</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>221B</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>After the extremely late dinner, Helena was sitting in the kitchen, still in her pyjamas, while Sherlock poured her and John a cup of tea from the teapot. Seeing as it was her day off, she was determined to sleep the rest of the day, but after a cuppa or two.</p><p>"Ta." She muttered gratefully, taking the first blessed sip from the mug.</p><p>John looked at the translated message and mused, "So, nine mill…"</p><p>"Million." Sherlock corrected, pouring some for himself.</p><p>"Million, yes. Nine million for jade pin dragon den black tramway." John continued.</p><p>Sherlock said, taking a sip of his tea. "An instruction to all their London operatives. A message. What they were trying to reclaim."</p><p>John looked up at him and asked, "What, a jade pin?"</p><p>"Worth nine million pounds. Bring it to the tramway, their London hideout." Sherlock replied, pointing to the translated words.</p><p>John blinked aghast before asking, "Hang on. A hairpin worth nine million pounds?"</p><p>"Apparently."</p><p>"Why so much?" John frowned.</p><p>"Depends who owned it or how old it was," Helena told him with a shrug.</p><hr/><p>
  <span class="u">
    <strong>221C</strong>
  </span>
</p><p>Helena blinked her eyes open as someone knocked on her door. Peering blearily at the clock, she sighed. She had been asleep for nearly 2 hours, but after being awake for more than 2 days now, she deserved more sleep! Whoever it was, she was going to kill him!</p><p>She stomped towards the door and opened it to see a beaming detective standing at her door, ready to knock again, but grinned like a madman when he saw her. She flinched. By now she knew that this particular smile was evil and could do no good.</p><p>"I solved the case." He informed before firing rapidly, "Now tell me everything!"</p><p>He was ready to burst into her apartment and she yelled, "For fuck's sake, Sherlock!"</p><p>And she slammed the door in his face, again, leaving a confused detective out.</p><p>She turned back to go back to bed when she saw a letter lying on her table. Frowning, she picked it up and recognised the handwriting as Neville's immediately. As she read it, her eyes turned cold and she crumpled the letter in her fist angrily.</p><p>Another woman was found, raped and 'attacked by an animal', but the thing was, her 7-year-old child was missing and presumed dead. She couldn't wait for Greyback to kill another person. She will have to find his hideout one way or the other.</p><p>She sent a patronus to Neville, informing him about her plan before packing an emergency bag.</p><p>Talking to Sherlock would have to wait.</p><hr/><p>October 9th, 2020</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The next chapter will be posted possibly within a month.</p><p>Positive Criticism is always appreciated unless it is rude or insulting. Have a nice day everyone.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>AN: Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter or Sherlock. They belong to their respective authors and writers. This is written for purely entertainment and no money is being made.</p><p>It is obvious that many things have been changed according to my story, but many things are the same as the BBC’s Sherlock. I’ve changed some events accordingly and I’ll let you know as we go forward.</p><p>I would like to apologize for any mistakes in advance. Please do not copy this story anywhere.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <span class="u">3 days later</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">St Barts</span> </strong>
</p><p>The two observed the red light shining over the piece of cloth that was lying on the table before she asked, “It’s his, isn’t it?”</p><p>“Yes.” Malfoy nodded before looking up at her and asking tentatively, “You found him then?”</p><p>She shook her head, irked and said, “No. Just the hideout, but they’ll be there before full-moon.”</p><p>He swallowed. “So, you will…?”</p><p>“Yes.” Was the terse reply.</p><p>“Be careful, would you?” said Malfoy, making her grin and said teasingly, “Aw… I didn’t know you cared, Malfoy.”</p><p>“Don’t be stupid, Potter!” he replied hotly. “I just don’t want another body on my table.”</p><p>Before she could come back with a clever retort, someone knocked on the door before entering slowly.</p><p>“Dr Black?” Molly called.</p><p>“Dr Hooper.” Malfoy nodded back curtly before acknowledging the man beside her. “Lestrade.”</p><p>“Molly! How are you?” Helena asked with a smile.</p><p>“Good. Good. I’m good.” Molly replied softly but her eyes flittered around as she asked nonchalantly, “So, you’re here with Sherlock?”</p><p>Helena was not at all surprised by the question. If she wasn’t wrong, the doctor loved Sherlock or she unquestionably had a crush on the man. She just shook her head and said, “Sorry. It’s just me.”</p><p>She turned towards the man and offered her hand. “Detective Inspector Lestrade, was it?”</p><p>“Miss Potter?” he looked surprised as he shook her hand and asked, “Are you on a case?”</p><p>“Something like that. I needed Draco’s expertise.” She told him with half a smile.</p><p>Now, Molly looked from her to Dr Black and asked, “Oh. You know each other?”</p><p>She looped her arm around Draco’s, startling him and said, “Oh, yes. We go way back. Practically childhood friends.”</p><p>Malfoy gaped at her like she was mental, but didn’t shrug her off. Though he did roll his eyes exasperatedly and huffed, “You wish, Potter.”</p><p>Lestrade and Molly looked at them awkwardly before Molly cleared her throat and said, “Dr Black? Inspector Lestrade needed the paperwork of the man who died this morning?”</p><p>Malfoy nodded and turned to his table, picked up a file before handing it to Molly wordlessly.</p><p>Startling them all, Lestrade spoke, “So, Miss Potter…”</p><p>“Helena, please.”</p><p>The man nodded and asked, “Helena. Can I drop you somewhere?”</p><p>She stared at him wide-eyed before shaking her head. “Oh no. I don’t want to be a bother.”</p><p>“It’s not an issue. I’m done for the day anyway.” The man said with a small smile.</p><p>And she found herself nodding. “Aright.”</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">221C</span> </strong>
</p><p>Hot water cascaded down her body as she scrubbed herself clean after days. Helena was still in a daze about the little fact that she had a date on Friday. Lestrade… Greg had asked her out on the way here and she had said yes. She could already tell that the man was sweet by the simple fact that he had not bad-mouthed Sherlock after finding out that they lived in the same apartment. When was the last time she went on a date? Teddy had been 8 when Ginny had set her up with one of her friends. It had turned out to be a disaster as Teddy had thrown a tantrum and accidentally apparated himself in William’s bedroom when the man was in the middle of removing her dress. There had been no second date after that. Now her little boy would be turning 12 next month and she was finally free to date. If ‘that someone’ accepted that she had a 12-year-old who was her main priority.</p><p>She hadn’t told Greg about Teddy just yet, but she would tell him on their date. If there was a date and the ‘man-child’ didn’t interrupt her as he had done with John. To say that she was scared would be an understatement. Especially after the reaction he had when she had invited Molly over, Helena couldn’t even begin to imagine what he would do if he found out she had a date with his colleague. She was going to keep the little detail to herself.</p><p>Lost in her thoughts as she was, she didn’t hear the door open until there was a sharp intake of breath and her eyes snapped to the man standing in front of her. She would’ve laughed at the wide-eyed look on his face which was turning red if it hadn’t been her naked!</p><p>She tried to cover herself with one hand while the other flew out blindly where she knew the towel was. The shower was still on and in her haste, she slipped into the tub… or she would’ve if two steady hands wouldn’t have caught her in time. Her own hands held onto his shoulders reflexively as she settled against his chest, hyper-aware of his hands that were now wrapped around her waist tightly. At the moment, she wasn’t sure whether she was grateful or not about the fact that even though she was completely starkers, at least he was fully clothed.</p><p>She squeezed her eyes shut and hissed, “Did it ever occur to you that you shouldn’t barge in when someone’s taking a shower?!”</p><p>“I did knock! You didn’t answer. You’ve been gone for three days and you weren’t answering your phone.” He mumbled.</p><p>Her eyes flew open and she glared at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were locked onto the wall behind her and his face was scarlet.</p><p>She gritted her teeth and said furiously, “I’m going to turn you into a bloody pig!”</p><p>Sherlock’s eyes snapped back to hers; disbelief written all over his face. By now, he too was soaking wet but paid no heed.</p><p>“Oh, yes. I can do that.” She told him vindictively.</p><p>“You wouldn’t.” He gasped.</p><p>Arching a brow elegantly as if she wasn’t standing naked in his arms she asked smugly, “Wouldn’t I?”</p><p>He stared down at her while she scowled until Sherlock moved one of his hands from her waist and turned the shower off. She shivered and squeaked when unexpectedly, he lifted her out of the bathtub easily before settling her on the mat and was startled to see him holding her towel out. Exhaling a shaky breath, she took it from him and closed her eyes when his eyes fell on the back of her hand. She wasn’t wearing the glamour. She didn’t think she would need it in the privacy of her bathroom!</p><p>
  <em>‘I must not tell lies.’</em>
</p><p>The words had faded with time, but they were still clearly visible as the day they had been carved.</p><p>His eyes had darkened considerably when he looked back at her and she could see a million questions swirling in them. Removing her other hand from his shoulder, she took the towel, unable to meet his eyes feeling oddly vulnerable. He didn’t speak and simply stormed out, closing the door behind him. Helena slumped against the wall and took a deep breath. Not bothering to dry herself down, she quickly wrapped the towel around herself, feeling her face burn with embarrassment.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">221C</span> </strong>
</p><p>Once dressed in her comfy pyjamas, she decided to search for something to eat but froze when she entered the living room. Sherlock was sitting on the chair in front of the fireplace in what she now knew to be his ‘thinking position’. His hair was wet but other than that, he had changed and was looking as immaculate as ever.</p><p>She thought of whirling around and hiding in her room until he left, but knowing him, he would possibly break the door to get the answers. Collecting the remaining of her dignity, she moved forwards and slumped on the sofa opposite the man.</p><p>His ears were still red and she felt her face growing hot as he mumbled, “I apologise.”</p><p>Helena nodded, still unable to meet his eyes and stared at the fire. None of the two spoke for some time and the silence grew loud. She couldn’t help herself and peaked at him, to see that he was staring at her steadily… definitely observing.</p><p>Slumping into the cushions, she waved her wand at the jar, covering the ‘worm’ swiftly and said, “Go ahead. Start the inquisition.”</p><p>He stared at it in wonder before eying her wand, looking ready to snatch it, but shook himself out and enquired, “Why cover the worm?”</p><p>Instead of answering, Helena picked the newspaper lying nearby and threw it at him.</p><p>“Let’s see how good your deduction skills are.” She challenged with a small smirk.</p><p>Frowning, but delighted he looked down at the paper. The Daily Prophet, only this time, the words and pictures remained instead of vanishing.</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">A New Headmistress for Hogwarts?</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Story by Rita Skeeter</strong>
</p><p>There was a picture of a stern-looking woman, witch, his mind reminded. Black hair, wearing a pointy-hat, glaring at whoever took the picture. His eyes flew through the absurd article and he rolled his eyes. Then he looked at the other picture. It too was of a woman – heavy-jawed face, rigid blonde curls, heavily painted face, jewelled spectacles, large, mannish hands and long crimson fingernails.</p><p>He looked up at Helena, who was now staring at him looking thoroughly amused and he frowned before looking at the paper again, searching for anything he might’ve missed. Shaking his head, perplexed how any of this could be connected to the ‘flobberworm’, he closed his eyes and everything flew in front of his eyes. And suddenly, his eyes flew back open and he gaped openly, making her grin.</p><p>“The journalist. How?” he asked dumbfounded.</p><p>“Transfiguration. We’re taught in our 2<sup>nd</sup> year. It’s illegal, but… nobody would care about a lying slut.” She told him offhandedly.</p><p>His mouth was still hanging open in an undignified manner as he stared at her before his expressions turned to amusement.</p><p>He pointed towards the back of her hands. “How did you get those?”</p><p>Already uncomfortable, she waved him off and said, “They’re not important. It was a long time ago.”</p><p>“You didn’t have them 3 days ago.” He poked.</p><p>Huffing, she replied, “I’ve had these since I was 15.”</p><p><em>‘Better to get it over with, yeah?’</em> she thought to herself before adding, “I use glamour to hide them. It’s… it helps in altering minor appearances like eye colour, the shape of your nose or mouth, hide injuries…”</p><p>“…or scars.” Sherlock finished for her before asking, “How was it carved?”</p><p>“With a Black Quill. It’s a torture device.” She told him monotonously. “</p><p>“You were tortured because you were an intricate part of the war.” He mused before Mycroft’s words rang in front of his eyes. <em>‘Her kind.’  </em>He leaned back and exhilarated by the concept of finally learning about the secret which everyone knew but him and asked, “What are you?”</p><p>She looked straight at him, but her fingers were fiddling with her pyjamas.</p><p><em>‘Nervous.’</em> He observed.</p><p>“I’m just as human as you are… but, I’m also a witch.” She spoke quietly.</p><p>He stilled. The only expression that crossed his face was the widening of his eyes. Otherwise, like his brother, he did not indicate that something was going on in his mind.</p><p>“This is my wand.” She twisted it in her fingers. He was still staring at her like she was a liar or maybe he was in shock, so she said, “You’ve seen what I can do. What my… others can do.”</p><p>He wanted to ask her if she was working for his brother but, how could he? He had seen her and the others using the wand himself. He was not mad! She had teleported right in front of him; she had used the wand to cut the scarf; the man – Wood, had removed John and his date’s memories; she didn’t know what stitches were; his homeless network was never able to follow her; Mycroft’s warning to ‘stay away’ because she was dangerous and even his brother wasn’t equipped to handle people like her. Her world was wholly different from the one he knew about. Pieces fell into place as he had never expected.</p><p>His eyes snapped back to hers when she waved her hand in front of him and asked worriedly, “Are you – alright?”</p><p>He nodded slowly, mind running to process everything that he had seen in the past months. “Yes.”</p><p>She looked sceptical but nodded nonetheless. “It would be easier if I tell you everything from the beginning.”</p><p>She bit her lower lip and asked tentatively, “But you can still leave if you want?”</p><p>He scowled at her and she raised both her hands. “Aright.”</p><p>“You must’ve figured out by now that I went to a private school?” she started.</p><p>“Hogwarts.” He supplied easily.</p><p>With a nod, she corrected, “Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”</p><p>He stayed glued to his spot, unwilling to move until he knew everything.</p><p>“You should know that witches and wizards are extremely prejudiced and the wizarding world is divided based on blood purity – purebloods, half-bloods and muggle-borns. Purebloods, who are born in a family with a magical bloodline, which could be traced back to the founders. Muggle-borns are those, who born to muggles, non-magical people. And half-bloods are those whose parents are both, a pureblood and a muggle-born. Ron and Malfoy are purebloods and Hermione is a muggle-born.”</p><p>“Muggle?” he asked inquisitively.</p><p>“Muggle is someone with no magic blood inside them. Non-magic folk.” She replied.</p><p>He made a face like he had swallowed something vile and asked outraged, “Did you imply that the <em>odious</em> term applies to me!?”</p><p>“Oh, come off it! I’m a half-blood! How do you think I feel?!” She told him with an eye-roll.</p><p>He huffed, but raised an eyebrow, gesturing for her to continue.</p><p>“First you need to know that there are two types of magic – light and dark. That’s how the wizarding world has always been. There are spells that we use in our daily lives, but there are curses that you aren’t allowed to use. And then there are the Unforgivable Curses – Killing Curse, it causes instantaneous and painless death without causing any injury to the body, and without any trace of violence.; Cruciatus is a torture curse. It’s… its worse than a thousand hot knives burning into the skin. 6 minutes under the curse is enough to cause permanent mental damage, for a witch or a wizard. A muggle goes mad in less than a minute if he survives it. And Imperius places the victim completely under the caster's control. Using any of these on another human being, Muggle or wizard, results in a life sentence to Azkaban, unless sufficient evidence is provided that the caster did so under the influence of the Imperius Curse.” She added after a moment, “It was made legal during the Second Wizarding War under Lord Voldemort's regime.”</p><p>He stared at her intently, still unmoving, already realising that she had been under at least one if not two.</p><p>“Tom Riddle or as he liked to call himself Voldemort or the Dark Lord, hated muggles and muggle-born; he wanted to cleanse the world and kill them all. People who agreed with him followed him, while others fought against him. He was very powerful and had already killed my grandparents 4 years before my birth along with many others. And then a prophecy was made:</p><p>
  <em>‘The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>and the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal but he shall have power the Dark Lord knows not...</em>
</p><p>
  <em>For neither can live while the other survives....’</em>
</p><p>“After I was born, my parents went into hiding along with the Longbottom’s. Neville was born a day after I did.”</p><p>“Your partner.” He remembered the man she had been arguing with the other day.</p><p>She nodded. “Both his parents were tortured to insanity to the point that they don’t even recognise Neville. Not even now.”</p><p>“Anyway, my parents were betrayed and Voldemort killed them, but he couldn’t kill me. His curse rebounded and he vanished. That’s how I got this scar.” She pointed to her forehead. “My godfather, Sirius Black was falsely accused of the murder of my parents and was sent to Azkaban. Wizarding prison – horrid place. Well, I was 15 months old and was sent to the Dursley’s. I didn’t know about magic until I received my letter when I turned 11. It turned out; Voldemort wasn’t as dead as people thought him to be. He returned when I was in 4<sup>th</sup> year.”</p><p>Taking a deep breath, she continued, “You should know that Albus Dumbledore was not only the Headmaster of Hogwarts but the most powerful wizard of his time. He’s even regarded as the strongest wizard in history, and even Lord Voldemort himself feared to face him which was why he stayed hidden. I tried to tell people but no one believed me. He was like a grandfather to me, so it was easy for them to think that I was lying because Dumbledore wanted to take the minister’s position.”</p><p>She pointed towards her hand. “That’s how I got these. The professor sent to keep an eye on us punished me for ‘spreading lies.’ Umbridge loved using Black Quill on students as punishment. It is a dark magical object and does not require ink as it writes with the blood of the person using it. What the user writes gets carved onto the back of their hands. Then the blood from the words sliced into the hand is magically siphoned and used as ink on the parchment.”</p><p>He stared at her attentively, his eyes fixated on hers, with his hands clasped together under his chin.</p><p>“In my 6<sup>th</sup> year, Dumbledore took me to the Cr…” she stopped suddenly. She couldn’t tell him the name or he would get himself killed with his curiosity. He narrowed his eyes when she changed what she was about to say. “…a cave to retrieve one of the seven Horcruxes created by Voldemort. However, he’d cast several different enchantments to protect the Horcrux. It is an object in which a Dark wizard or witch has hidden a fragment of his or her soul to become immortal. The spell has to be performed right after committing cold-blooded murder. A Horcrux is considered to be the darkest art and the most terrible of all dark magic.”</p><p>Sherlock noticed that she rubbed the mark on her forehead tiredly and said, “The Death Eaters, Voldemort’s followers found their way into Hogwarts that night. Dumbledore was weak and was killed. After that, Voldemort took over Hogwarts and the ministry. He killed hundreds of muggles. You must remember hearing about the Brockdale Bridge?”</p><p>His eyes widened because he remembered it being too suspicious. “It was…”</p><p>She replied, “…the death eaters. Muggle-borns were killed at sight. We knew we couldn’t go back anyway and we couldn’t let him win. No one else knew about the Horcruxes and I knew I had to find them to end it all.”</p><p>“Them?” he asked curiously.</p><p>“There were 8, including one that was the part of his soul. Two had already been destroyed by then and the locket hidden in the cave turned out to be a fake. I was on the run for more than a year. Ron and Hermione, they… they followed me willingly despite knowing that they were targeted because of me. Her parents were muggles, so she erased their memories and sent them to Australia. As you know, they were murdered. The last one was destroyed on the day of the final war.”</p><p>“You killed him.” He stated.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>He observed her, not missing the melancholy in her eyes. It made him understand how she easily adapted to the dangerous circumstances when anyone else would’ve run away by now. From the moment she had understood life, adventure and danger were all she had known. This was the reason she was important. This was why Mycroft couldn’t simply kidnap her. She was too important… too famous, suddenly her picture in the paper made sense. Working ‘with’ the British government made sense. That’s how the man, Marcus Flint was killed – the killing curse. The potions and medicines; the moving newspaper and the words vanishing right in front of his eyes, it all made sense now.</p><p>“What’s a squib?</p><p>“A non-magical person born to at least one magical parent. They are rare and are looked upon with disdain by some witches and wizards, particularly pure-bloods. Purebloods tend to abandon squibs and pretend that they never existed.”</p><p>He said, “Angelo’s grandfather.”</p><p>“Yes. Zabini’s are pure-bloods. Famous for supporting the dark side.” She told him.</p><p>His eyes didn’t leave her face as he finally asked, “You know who killed those women.”</p><p>“A werewolf.” Came a short reply and he straightened.</p><p>He leaned forward before ordering, “Say that again!”</p><p>“Fenrir Greyback is a werewolf notorious for his savagery and preference for attacking children. He is a leader in his community and strives to infect as many people as possible with lycanthropy, hoping to build an army strong enough to eventually take over the wizarding community.” She told him with utter disgust.</p><p>But his eyes shined excitedly and he jumped off his seat and sprang in front of her, startling her.</p><p>“Tell me more!” He demanded, grinning like a madman.</p><p>She opened his mouth to snap at him but promptly shut it back as an idea clicked and she said, “Why don’t I give you the book. It has all the information about the creatures of the wizarding world.”</p><p>“Yes!”</p><p>With an innocent smile, she waved her wand and the book flew right into her hands. Startled, he leaned back, but his excitement was too much and his eyes shined at the display of magic. He was kneeling in front of her, so she dropped it in his lap.</p><p>He caught the tome easily. It had a green cover, emblazoned with the golden title that read – The Monster Book of Monsters by Edwardus Lima.</p><p>He went to open it in his haste, but she stopped him and shook her head. “Take it upstairs and don’t open the lock until you’re ready to read it. Return it once you're done.”</p><p>Nodding, already immersed in the book, he jumped and rushed out and wouldn’t have listened if it hadn’t been for her words. “I should warn you. It’s a particularly vicious copy. It bites!”</p><p>He stopped short and whirled around to stare at her and asked disbelievingly, “Bites?”</p><p>“Bites.” She informed smugly, not that he noticed because suddenly, she waved her wand at him and he felt a gust of wind, but nothing happened. He opened his mouth to tell her exactly that but promptly snapped it shut when a mirror flew and stopped in front of his face, floating in mid-air.</p><p>He stared at her with narrow eyes, that was until he saw his reflection in the mirror. At that moment, he did one thing the great Sherlock Holmes would’ve never done.</p><p>He yelped.</p><p>Instead of his ears, he was now supporting huge pink ears.</p><p>He stared horrified as the ears twitched and his eyes snapped to the ‘witch’.</p><p>She was smirking outright as she said, “I did say I would turn you into a pig, didn’t I?”</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">221C</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Next Day</span> </strong>
</p><p>“HELENA!!!!!!!!!”</p><p><em>‘Ah. Revenge was sweet.’ </em>She thought.</p><p>“HELENA!!!!!!!!!”</p><p>She grinned before standing up from her cosy place on the sofa and went upstairs at a leisurely pace.</p><p>She blinked at the scene in front of her. Torn pages were flying everywhere as the ‘book’ viciously ate the papers lying on the floor next to the study table, while Sherlock was standing on his black couch with a large stick in hand, glowering down at the book. As soon as he saw her, he jumped on the floor, hoping that Helena would help, only for the book to shuffled rapidly across the room towards the man himself. He jumped back on the couch, beating the book with the stick. The book glowered at him before scuttling back under the desk and Sherlock glared at it viciously.</p><p>“How long have you been there?” she couldn’t help but ask.</p><p>Instead of replying, he whined, “It keeps growling at me and it bit me! It has been trying to rip my arm off ever since I opened it!”</p><p>“I told you it was a particularly vicious copy.” She reminded him, thoroughly amused.</p><p>Whatever he was about to say was interrupted as a loud ripping noise rent the air and two turned to look where the Monster book had seized another book and had torn it apart.</p><p>“That thing is a menace!” Sherlock hissed.</p><p>“It is, isn’t it?” She chucked.</p><p>Sherlock glared at her before accusing, “You did this on purpose.”</p><p>She didn’t deny it and smirked. “I’m the daughter of not one but two mauderers. The next time you barge into my bathroom without knocking, I’ll give you a nose to match with your ears.”</p><p>His pink ears twitched and he blinked at her a couple of time, deliberately, if she wasn’t wrong. He looked thoroughly embarrassed as he squared his shoulders as if preparing himself for war and mumbled, “Please. I – have to use the loo.”</p><p>Helena bit her lip so she wouldn’t end up laughing at his misery and said simply, “You have to stroke its spine.”</p><p>Sherlock’s lips twitched downwards, clearly agitated as he downright glared at her before jumping off the couch and scrambled towards the book on his hands and knees, which flapped past him with a torn piece of paper between its sharp teeth. Sherlock threw himself forward and managed to flatten it. He clutched the struggling book tightly in his arms and ran his fingers down its spine furiously. As expected, the book shivered and then fell open, laying quietly in his hands.</p><p>He stared at the book with curious fascination. Then nodded at her like he hadn’t been tussling with a book for hours now, before putting it under his arm and rushed towards the bathroom.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Late March </span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">221C</span> </strong>
</p><p>Someone was shaking her and it took her a moment to realised that it wasn’t Teddy. Even before her eyes opened, she yanked whoever it was down on the bed, making the man gasp and was sitting on top of him with her wand pointed at their throat. Now awake, she found herself looking into the wide eyes of one Sherlock Holmes.</p><p>Pulling her wand back, she rubbed her eyes and looked at the clock at her bedside table.</p><p>
  <strong> <em>4.</em> </strong>
</p><p>It was bloody 4 in the morning! She wanted to cry. Why couldn’t he let her have a full night’s sleep? She was already regretting emptying the bottle of chardonnay the night before and the day hadn’t even begun.</p><p>“Why do you hate me?” she grumbled.</p><p>Sherlock blinked at her once before stating, “Don’t act like an idiot. Of course, I do not hate you.”</p><p> “It’s 4’ in the morning!” she whined before slumping on top of him unbothered by the fact that their hips were perfectly aligned because her knees were folded on either side of him. In her inebriated state, she didn’t notice how he stiffened underneath her or how he flexed his fingers unconsciously, not knowing what to do with them, so he kept them by his sides firmly.</p><p>Her cheek was resting on his chest, right where his heart was beating furiously but she didn’t pay any heed and if possible, burrowed even closer. “Mmm… You smell nice.” She mumbled.</p><p>“You’re drunk.” He observed before finally bringing his hands to hold her thighs, so she would stop moving or maybe it was to push her off. He wasn’t sure.</p><p>“No. I’m sleepy.” She countered before adding sluggishly, “Just 5 minutes.”</p><p>As she fell back to sleep, he stared at the girl sleeping on top of him uncertainly. Should he push her off him? She was his friend, wasn’t she? What kind of friend would he be if he threw her off her own bed? Was sleeping on top each other common between two friends? He shuddered at the thought and his nose wrinkled with distaste unconsciously. Helena wasn’t doing it deliberately anyway. From the smell of alcohol on her, he could tell that she was inebriated. He probably should ask John about the basic rules of friendship. But for some reason, he didn’t really want to throw her off. The idea of having a friend had never interested him. Especially women. They were weak and emotional, the reason he had intentionally stayed away from them.</p><p>But Helena wasn’t like others. Not only she was efficient in taking care of herself, but she was also skilful enough to easily ‘kick his and John’s ass’ as she had so eloquently pointed out not long ago. She wasn’t an idiot and even Mycroft was wary of her. She could turn people into animals! He would have to ask her if she would transform Anderson into something else.</p><p>Though his conundrum solved itself when there was a sharp intake of breath and he felt the exact moment she went stiff. She rolled off him hastily and landed in a heap on the floor with a loud yelp.</p><p>He peaked down slowly, to see that she had covered her eyes with both her hands and was muttering something too low for him to hear.</p><p>“Are you alright?” he asked cautiously, not wanting a pink nose, now that he had finally gotten rid of the horrid ears. He shuddered.</p><p>“No.” came the murmured reply. “I wish the floor would open and swallow me whole.”</p><p>His brows furrowed and he asked confused, “Why?”</p><p>Maybe it was the alcohol, but in an uncharacteristically bold move, that even surprised herself, she lifted her head and looked right into his eyes before informing him seriously, “I haven’t had sex in a very long time now and I was this close from having my way with you.”</p><p>His eyes went sharp at her words and he stared into the green eyes wordlessly.</p><p>“Next time when you decide to barge in my bathroom or bed… keep in mind, I’ll do just that.” She added.</p><p>He studied her steadily, looking for signs, in case she was jesting at him. He found none. She had never tried to manipulate him and at this moment, she was nothing but truthful. He swallowed visibly as he felt his ears turning hot, but other than that, he gave no indication that her words affected him in any way. He had been propositioned before – by men and women alike, but he had rejected them all. Right now, though, he couldn’t manage words. What was about this woman that always left him speechless?</p><p>So, he filed it for later and said instead, “We’re going out.”</p><p>She cursed under her breath before asked, “What? Where?”</p><p>“Minsk.”</p><p>“Minsk?!” she gaped.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“For a potential case, obviously.” He supplied.</p><p>Her eyes narrowed as she asked, “Where is John?”</p><p>Testily, he said, “He is busy.”</p><p>“You are a grown man! You don’t need a babysitter!” She couldn’t help but snap.</p><p>The dark look he shot her clearly said what he thought about her choice of words, but then his eyes shined and he told her excitedly, “Yes, but we’re going to teleport. I want to see how it works.”</p><p>That made her gawp before she asked incredulously, “You woke me at 4 in the bloody morning because you want to teleport?!”</p><p>“Yes. I got tea. It’s on the table outside.” He told her like the ‘angel’ he was.</p><p>Sanding up from the floor, she went to her cupboard, contemplating murder before asking, “Where in the bloody hell did you get tea from at this hour?”</p><p>“I made it.” He told her proudly.</p><p>Her head snapped towards him and she gasped, “You made it?”</p><p>Shaking her head, she pulled out the potion and chucked it down, already feeling better. Now that her brain was clear, she felt a little embarrassed, when she felt his presence right behind her and he asked, “What is this and what does it do?”</p><p>She shivered when his hot breath ghosted in her ear. Her face burned when she realised that he might not have noticed, but he had moulded his body to hers and she could feel the heat radiating off him in waves. He was leaning over her shoulder and staring inside the box and she snapped her eyes shut. Sometimes, she believed, he did such things deliberately. She should probably just turn around and throw him on the bed…</p><p>
  <em>‘Oh, dear Merlin! She needed to get laid.’</em>
</p><p>Perhaps, it was a good thing she had agreed to that date with Greg.</p><p>Collecting herself, she replied, “Pepper-up potion. It got rid of any after-effects of the wine I had last night.”</p><p>With that, she turned around and pushed him aside before practically sprinting to the bathroom. She made sure to lock the door firmly behind her before slumping against it.</p><hr/><p>As soon as she sipped the tea, she spat it out. Wheezing, she thumped her chest as she felt her eyes watering. <em>‘What the hell was that?!’ </em>She thought before rushing towards the sink and rinsed her mouth.</p><p>When she looked at him, he looked thoroughly insulted, but she couldn’t take another sip of this… this calamity. She pulled a piece of chocolate from her drawer and popped it into her mouth, still feeling like instead of tea, she had gulped Polyjuice potion.</p><p>“What was that?” she finally managed to gasp.</p><p>He scowled at her before peeking into the cup and said slowly, “It certainly looked like tea.”</p><p>“I think I’m gonna be sick.” She bemoaned and he rolled his eyes at the dramatics.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Minsk, Belarus</span> </strong>
</p><p>They were both dry heaving. Sherlock, because he was relatively new at ‘teleporting’. Helena, because the ‘tea’ he had made was doing somersaults in her stomach. It had been the most disgusting thing she’d ever tasted, far worse than any potion ever made. She wasn’t even sure if it was ‘tea’ and vowed to herself – she wasn’t going to drink or eat anything he ‘made’… even if her life depended on it.</p><p>Never again.</p><hr/><p>They were sitting in the assembly room in a Belarussian prison on the opposite side of a shifty-looking man named Bezza, who was wearing an orange jumpsuit. The room was empty except for a guard who was standing not far away. The room was freezing and Helena didn’t think before casting a non-verbal warming charm around herself and Sherlock. Other than casting a glance her way, he didn’t give any other indication whatsoever.</p><p>“Just tell me what happened, from the beginning,” Sherlock said, sounding bored.</p><p>“We had been to a bar, nice place, and, er, I got chatting with one of the waitresses, and Karen weren't happy with that, so… when we get back to the hotel, we end up havin' a bit of a ding-dong, don't we?”</p><p>Sherlock sighed and let out a long breath deliberately.</p><p>“She’s always getting' at me, sayin' I weren’t a real man.”</p><p>“<em>Wasn't</em> a real man.” Sherlock corrected, clearly annoyed.</p><p>The man asked, “What?”</p><p>“It's not “weren’t”; it's “wasn’t”.” Sherlock corrected again and beside him, Helena leaned back in the chair.</p><p>“Oh.” The man nodded.</p><p>“Go on,” Sherlock stated slowly.</p><p>“Well… then I don’t know how it happened, but suddenly there's a knife in my hands… And, you know, me old man was a butcher, so I know how to handle knives.” Sherlock lowered his gaze to look at his hands which were resting on the table as the man continued, “He learned us how to cut up a beast.”</p><p>“Taught.” Sherlock interrupted and Helena linked her fingers together, clearly knowing where this was going.</p><p>“What?” he hissed, sounding a bit angry.</p><p>“<em>Taught</em> you how to cut up a beast,” Sherlock stated, clearly bored.</p><p>“Yeah, well, then-then I done it.” The man confessed.</p><p><em>‘Dear Lord. Here it comes again.’</em> She thought.</p><p>“Did it.”</p><p>Finally losing his temper, Bezza shouted angrily, “<em>Did</em> it! <em>Stabbed</em> her…” he repeatedly slammed his hand on the table as he continued, “…over and over and over, and I looked down and she weren't…”</p><p>Sighing loudly, Sherlock turned his head towards Helena, whose fingers were twitching under the table, clearly itching to take out her wand and hex the man. He was tempted to see what she would do and what else the wand could do, but then she would get in trouble for using magic on a ‘muggle’.</p><p>“…<em>wasn't</em> movin' no more.” Bezza corrected slowly before looking from her to Sherlock and stated aggravatingly, “…any more.”</p><p>He lowered his head and said quickly, “God help me, I dunno how it happened, but it was an accident, I swear.”</p><p>Sherlock stood up and she followed suit. As they turned around to leave, Bezza called agitatedly, “You've gotta help me, Mr Holmes!”</p><p>Sherlock stopped, but Helena left just as the man said shakily, “Everyone says you're the best. Without you… I'll get hung for this.”</p><p>Sherlock looked over his shoulder and said, “No, no, no, Mr Berwick, not at all.” Then, he added thoughtfully, “<em>Hanged</em>, yes.”</p><p>And left with a quick smile.</p><hr/><p>Once outside, Helena glared at him and hissed, “You weren’t interested in the case, were you? You woke me in the middle of the night because you wanted to ‘apparate’?</p><p>He gave her ‘the smile’ and her mind instantly started making revenge plans.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">April</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">221B</span> </strong>
</p><p>Helena rushed out of her flat when she heard the gunshots, only to come face to face with John who was entering the apartment.</p><p>BANG!</p><p>BANG!</p><p>BANG!</p><p>They rushed upstairs and John opened the door and they tumble inside. Sherlock was sprawled in the chair with his head resting on its back. He was wearing his dressing gown and was holding a revolver in his hand. Helena noticed that on the opposite side of the wall, a smiley face had been drawn with yellow spray too similar to the one used in the last case he had solved and the ‘face’ had bullet holes for eyes and mouth.</p><p>Removing his fingers from his ears, John yelled, “What the <em>hell</em> are you doing?!”</p><p>“Bored,” Sherlock replied sulkily.</p><p>“What?!” John asked quietly, squinting at him with disbelief.</p><p>“Bored!” Sherlock said loudly with a glare before springing out of his chair.</p><p>BANG!</p><p>John covered his ears immediately as Sherlock shot towards the face again.</p><p>BANG!</p><p>“No…” John started, only to cut off by Sherlock who stated angrily, “Bored!”</p><p>BANG!</p><p>He fired at it thrice more before John managed to snatch the revolver from him.</p><p>“Don't know what's got into the criminal classes. Good job I'm not one of them.” Sherlock said, walking towards the smiley face while John locked the revolver in the drawer of the study table.</p><p>“So you take it out on the wall?” John asked resigned.</p><p>“Ah, the wall had it coming,” Sherlock said, running his fingers along the painted smile before flopping down on the sofa dramatically. His head landed on the cushions with his feet resting near the armrest.</p><p>“No to the Russian case?” Helena asked from where she was leaning on the door, while John took his coat off.</p><p>“Belarus. Open and shut domestic murder. Not worth my time.” He replied, making himself comfortable on the sofa.</p><p>“Ah, shame!” John said sarcastically, making Helena smile. Talk about ‘having domestic’.</p><p>John walked into the kitchen and threw his arms up with frustration at the mess on the table. Heading towards the fridge, he asked, “Anything in? I'm starving.”</p><p>“Oh, fu…” John stated loudly, immediately slamming the door of the fridge shut.</p><p>Helena frowned, wondering what could it be that got such reaction from John. He must’ve been accustomed to finding body parts stored in 221B. She couldn’t hold back her curiosity and peeked in the kitchen in time to see John opening the door again.</p><p>Her eyes widened when she saw a man’s head – a served head resting on one of the racks inside.</p><p>John stared at it for a couple of seconds before closing the door and mumbled, “It's a head.”</p><p>Then he turned and looked at her before stating loudly, “A severed head!”</p><p>“Just tea for me, thanks.” Sherlock called back, sounding ‘bored’.</p><p>“No, there's a head in the fridge,” John said, moving towards the man on the couch resolutely, possibly to punch his flatmate.</p><p>“Yes?” Sherlock asked confused.</p><p>“A bloody head!” John shouted.</p><p>“Well, where else was I supposed to put it?” Sherlock grumbled before casting a look at John and asked, “You don't mind, do you?”</p><p>It was clear in his tone that he didn’t care either way; John buried his head in his hands despondently; Helena though had other things in mind. She looked at Sherlock and asked suspiciously, “Did you kill him?”</p><p>“Of course, not! I got it from Bart's morgue.” He glared at her, looking cross and declared, “I'm measuring the coagulation of saliva after death.”</p><p>John closed his eyes, while Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her and stated, “You were out on a date.”</p><p>She shifted uncomfortably but said with an arched brow, “Uh… yes?”</p><p>John looked between the two uneasily as the two were locked in a glaring contest. Two months since Helena had moved into 221, but he was still unable to understand how these two worked. The tension between them was palpable and if it had been anyone else, they surely would’ve ‘resolved’ it by now. But it was Sherlock and John wasn’t sure he would even understand if it hit him in the face. Helena wasn’t fragile like most women; she could hold on her own and she followed Sherlock despite the situation… though most of the times he ended up dragging her along. Most women would’ve punched him by now or would’ve left long ago, but not her. She was the only one who knew how to handle the man when no one could and John wasn’t ashamed to admit that he was a little envious of her ‘talent’. Most of the time these two ended up having their own communication that even he didn’t understand. Just like they were doing right now.</p><p>He noticed as Sherlock huffed and turned his head away moodily and Helena rolled her eyes. He really needed to ask her how she ended up shutting Sherlock up without even trying.</p><p>John blinked when Sherlock waved his hand vaguely in the direction of his laptop and stated, “I see you've written up the taxi driver case.”</p><p>Helena moved over to John and peeked over his shoulder to the laptop screen curiously. Without a word, John handed his laptop to her and she took with a small smile before settling herself in Sherlock’s chair.</p><p>“The taxi driver case?” she asked, already immersed in the words in front of her.</p><p>“Er… yes,” John replied before settling himself into his chair comfortably.</p><p>“A Study in Pink. Nice.” Sherlock said with an undertone of sarcasm, picking up a magazine from the coffee table and holding it on front of his face.</p><p>“Well, you know. Pink lady, pink case, pink phone. There was a lot of pink. Did you like it?” John asked.</p><p>“Erm… <em>no</em>,” Sherlock replied sardonically.</p><p>“Why not? I thought you'd be flattered.” John asked, genuinely shocked.</p><p>“Flattered?” Sherlock said incuriously, turning his head to glare at John before adding, “Sherlock sees through everything and everyone in seconds. What's incredible, though, is how spectacularly ignorant he is about some things.”</p><p>John raised his hand and explained, “Now hang on a minute. I didn't mean that in a…”</p><p>Sherlock interrupted him. “Oh, you meant ‘spectacularly ignorant’ in a nice way! Look, it doesn't matter to me who's Prime Minister… or...”</p><p>“I know…” John mumbled quietly.</p><p>Sherlock continued, “…or who's sleeping with who…”</p><p>Helena kept her eyes firmly on the screen, unwilling to interfere and more than ready to make her exit before they dragged her into this.</p><p>“Whether the Earth goes round the Sun.” John added sarcastically; Helena’s head snapped up and she asked disbelievingly, “You don't know the Earth goes round the Sun?”</p><p>Sherlock sighed and stated loudly, “Not that again. It's not important!”</p><p>John shifted in his chair to face Sherlock and quirked an eyebrow, “Not impor…? It's primary school stuff. How can you not know that?”</p><p>Sherlock pressed his palms to his eyes and replied, “Well, if I ever did, I've deleted it.”</p><p>“Deleted it?” John questioned.</p><p>He sat up, putting the magazine back on the table before looking at John and said, “Listen.”</p><p>Pointing towards his head he added, “This is my hard drive, and it only makes sense to put things in there that are useful… REALLY useful.” Looking disgusted, he continued, “Ordinary people fill their heads with all kinds of rubbish. That makes it hard to get at the stuff that matters. Do you see?”</p><p>Helena blinked at him before standing up hastily with John’s laptop in her hands and mumbled, “I should leave.”</p><p>John though couldn't contain himself and shouted at Sherlock, “But it's the solar system!”</p><p>Who buried his head in his hands before looking up at John with frustration and said, “Oh, hell! What does that matter?! So we go around the Sun! If we went round the Moon, or round and round the garden like a teddy bear, it wouldn't make a difference. All that matters to me is the work. Without that, my brain rots.”</p><p>He ruffled his hair with both his hands and looked up to see Helena tiptoeing downstairs. “What are you doing?!” He asked clearly confused before glaring back at John and snapped, “Put that in your blog. Or better still, stop inflicting your opinions on the world.”</p><p>“Sherlock!” Helena gaped, startled by his sudden rude behaviour towards John.</p><p>He shoved the magazine across the coffee table pettishly and flopped down on the sofa with his face towards the wall. He curled into a ball, pulling his dressing gown around himself.</p><p>John pursed his lips before standing up and picked his jacket when Sherlock turned to look over his shoulder and asked, “Where are you going?”</p><p>“Out. I need some air.” John replied tightly, moving towards the door.</p><p>They heard footsteps before Mrs Hudson said with a chuckle, “Oh, sorry, love!”</p><p>Irked, Sherlock looked at Helena and snapped, “Don’t you have something to do?”</p><p>Helena’s lips thinned as she glared at him. Feeling vexed, she picked up the nearest newspaper, folded it and threw it at his head, just as Mrs Hudson entered the living room and knocked, “Ooh-ooh.”</p><p>Startled, Sherlock looked at her and asked indignantly, “What was that for?”</p><p>“You had a little domestic?” Mrs Hudson asked looking at her.</p><p>“He’s being an arsehole,” Helena informed her, earning a glare from the said man and marched downstairs angrily.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">221C</span> </strong>
</p><p>Irritated, she closed the door with a loud bang behind her and threw herself on the sofa. Pulling her wand, she fired a spell at the fireplace, lighting it up. She threw her wand to the side and slumped back and rubbed her eyes tiredly. She was clearly not wanted in Sherlock’s home… why was she so intent on getting herself insulted every single time? Oh, yes! Because she was lonely and miserable. Now that Teddy wasn’t here any longer, Helena realised that she had no one to come home to. Yes, there were people who loved her, but they had their own lives. Hermione was pregnant and they were starting a family. Neville was engaged to Hannah. Even freaking Malfoy had a child!</p><p>What was she doing with her life? She would be turning 30 soon and had no one. She had known that she might not survive the war when she was younger, so it hadn’t been an issue, but she always knew that if she lived, she wanted a family of her own. Teddy was her family, but he would have a life of his own now and she wouldn’t be a part of it anymore.</p><p>Her first date with Greg had been surprisingly nice. He had informed her that he was in the middle of getting a divorce because his wife cheated on him. In turn, she had told him about Teddy. He was kind, but Helena wasn’t sure what to make of him. He had kissed her on the cheek before leaving. Did he wanted more or were they done? It didn’t help her that she had no idea how these things worked!</p><p>Deep in thoughts, it took her a moment to realise that there was a massive explosion on the front street. The windows blew in and the force of the blast hurled her forward onto the coffee table. There was a loud ringing in her ears and blinked a couple of times to dispel the sudden starts that were forming in front of her eyes. She groaned with pain before moving to sit on the carpet, touching the cut on the side of her head gingerly. It was a good thing Mrs Hudson had left moments ago.</p><p>Suddenly, she realised that Sherlock’s flat was just above hers and she stood up hastily, only to stagger. She held the nearest wall for support, trying to get herself together. It took her a moment, but she wasn’t harmed, so she picked up her wand and rushed upstairs, only to collide with the man who was rushing downstairs</p><p>Apart from looking a little winded, he looked fine and she sighed with relief.</p><p>“Are you alright?” she asked at the same time he said, “You’re hurt.”</p><p>Shrugging, she said, “It’s just a cut. I crash-landed on the table.”</p><p>“You can heal that,” Sherlock stated.</p><p>She shook her head and informed, “One cannot heal themselves. It's absurd really, but at least I can use the healing salve.”</p><p>“The healing salve?” he asked curiously.</p><p>“Yes.” She told him simply and turned back towards her flat and wasn’t the least bit surprised when he followed her.</p><p>Pulling out the salve from her cupboard, she informed him before he could ask, “Star Grass Salve. It’s used for healing or relieving wounds and sores.”</p><p>He looked at the star-shaped box and took it from her. It was a greenish substance and looked like a regular ointment.</p><p>“Sit.” He ordered, pointing towards the bed.</p><p>“What?” She asked confused.</p><p>Not willing to repeat himself, he just stared at her until she gave up and sat on the corner of her bed. He pulled out a cloth he had noticed earlier, which was definitely meant for cleaning wounds. He kneeled in front of her before pressing it on the cut that was bleeding, making her wince. Once satisfied, he threw it in the trash bin by the door and scooped the salve out and dabbed it on the side of her forehead.</p><p>All the while, Helena stared at him wide-eyed, feeling like she had been put under a stunning spell. Her heart was hammering in her chest and she felt herself turning hot from his proximity. He was close… so very close and it was bad. Very bad, but they weren’t doing anything, were they? Why was it bad again? She could see the flecks of gold in his grey eyes. His lips looked so soft and inviting. If she just weaved her fingers into his curly hair and pull him forward, she would be able to taste him. Just a little spell to divest them of their clothes and she would be able to feel his skin against her own…</p><p>“Are you feeling alright? You look a little flushed.” He asked startling her and she blinked.</p><p>“Yes!” her voice came out high pitched and he arched a brow. She gave him a shaky smile and shifted further onto the bed, as far away from him as possible, so she wouldn’t end up ‘attacking’ him and said, “Yes. It’s the cut.”</p><p> It was clear by his expressions that she called her bullshit, but before he could open his mouth and demand answers which he would not like, the doorbell ringed.</p><p>“Mycroft.” Sherlock groaned at the same time she took a relieved sigh, “Mike.”</p><p>He threw her a look at the nickname and she shrugged.</p><p>He moved to go out before looking over to her and asked, “Coming?”</p><p>Grimacing, she gestured around towards the shattered glass lying all around and said, “Uh… no. You go ahead. He’s probably worried about you. I should clean up either way.”</p><p>He rolled his eyes but gave a single nod before leaving and Helena covered her face with her hands.</p><p>
  <em>‘She was in trouble… big trouble.’</em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">221C</span> </strong>
</p><p>The door hurled open, startling her and John barged in, looking distressed. “Helena! Are you alright??”</p><p>“Yes.” She pulled the phone away from her ear before adding, “Sherlock’s fine too and Mrs Hudson wasn’t home.”</p><p>He looked upset, so she hugged him, not noticing the way he turned red. She pulled away and said with a small smirk, “You should probably go upstairs before the two mad-brothers kill each other.”</p><p>John shifted awkwardly before asking, “Mycroft’s here?”</p><p>“Of course, he is.” She snorted despite herself and with a nod, John headed upstairs.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">221C</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">2 hours later</span> </strong>
</p><p>Someone knocked on the door and she put the book she had been reading down. Opening the door, she frowned when she saw Sherlock, John and Greg standing there looking edgy at best.</p><p>“What happened?” she asked.</p><p>“Was someone in here recently?” Sherlock asked as he entered her flat and looked around.</p><p>“No. I’ve been here all day.” She told him perplexed as she followed him into Teddy’s room.</p><p>Teddy wouldn’t be back until July, so his room was closed like it had been for months now. Sherlock turned on the lights as soon as he entered and Helena’s eyes widened when she saw a pair of shoes on the bed. They hadn’t been here before. How in the world did someone enter her flat without her notice? That too in Teddy’s room?</p><p>She looked at the three for some information when Greg told her, “It could be a bomb.”</p><p>Her mouth fell open as she looked back at the shoes. She didn’t know anything about muggle bombs. It could very well be triggered by her single spell. Swallowing hard, she left the three men, rushed outside and cast a charm around the house. It had been a muggle, which is why her wards hadn’t alerted her and he had here when she had rushed upstairs after hearing the gunshots. Someone had been keeping an eye on her and had waited until she left the apartment. When she found out who it was, she was going to murder them.</p><p>She went back in time to see Sherlock talking on a pink phone.</p><p>[H-hello... sexy.] A woman spoke tearfully, taking in ragged breaths.</p><p>Helena exchanged a look with John and Greg, who shook their heads, just as puzzled.</p><p>[Who's this?] Sherlock asked softly.</p><p>[I've... sent you... a little puzzle, just to say hi.] The woman replied shakily.</p><p>[Who's talking? Why are you crying?] He asked questioningly.</p><p>[I… I'm not... crying. I'm typing.] Her voice was shaky and full of tears as she continued, [And this... stupid bitch... is reading it out.] She said sobbing hysterically.</p><p>Sherlock gazed in front of him thoughtfully and muttered softly, “The curtain rises.”</p><p>Helena frowned, but John asked, “What?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Sherlock said, too quickly.</p><p>“No, what did you mean?” John demanded.</p><p>Sherlock didn’t turn around, but replied, “I've been expecting this for some time.”</p><p>[12 hours to solve… my puzzle, Sherlock... or I'm going to be... so… naughty.] The woman cried out before hanging up the phone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>EN: This chapter turned out to be too long, so I’ve divided it into two. The other part will be posted soon.</p><p>What do you think of Sherlock and Helena’s relationship? Your views and opinions would be greatly appreciated. Positive Criticism is always appreciated unless it is rude or insulting.</p><p>Have a nice day everyone.</p><p>October 21st, 2020</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>AN: Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter or Sherlock. They belong to their respective authors and writers. This is written for purely entertainment and no money is being made.</p><p>It is obvious that many things have been changed according to my story, but many things are the same as the BBC’s Sherlock. I’ve changed some events accordingly and I’ll let you know as we go forward.</p><p>I would like to apologize for any mistakes in advance. Please do not copy this story anywhere.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Same Day</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">St. Bart's</span> </strong>
</p><p>John had gone to get himself a cup of coffee, leaving her to follow Sherlock in the lab. Once inside, he set the pair of shoes down and put a pair of latex gloves on when she decided it was the right time to talk or ask about her suspicion.</p><p>“Is it Moriarty?” she asked slowly, startling him and his head snapped to hers.</p><p>Staring at her peculiarly, he asked, “How do you know that name?”</p><p>“John mentioned it when he told me about your first case together.” She replied before arching a brow and asked again, “So? Is it him?”</p><p>“It could be.” He mumbled, still staring at her unblinkingly.</p><p>Nodding to herself, she asked again, “The woman – she’s just a hostage. What does he want?”</p><p>Now, he looked down at the trainers but didn’t reply and went back to his work.</p><p>Knowing he might not know himself, Helena huffed and leaned against the wall. Sipping the coffee, she watched him as he examined the trainers scrupulously. He dug out some mud from it’s sole and dropped it into the dish. Eerily focussed, he stared at the shoes again when John entered with two cups in hands and handed one to Helena, who gave him a grateful smile.</p><p>“So, who do you suppose it was?” John asked, clearly annoyed by the lack of information.</p><p>“Hmm?” Sherlock hummed absentmindedly, ignoring his phone which beeped with a text message.</p><p>“The woman on the phone – the crying woman.” John clarified.</p><p>“Oh, she doesn't matter, she's just a hostage. No lead there.” He replied offhandedly, making both Helena and John glared at him, not that he noticed.</p><p>“For God's sake, I wasn't thinking about leads,” John said with exasperation.</p><p>“You're not going to be much use to her.” Sherlock said before glancing towards the scanner in the laptop, which showed nothing but 'NO MATCH' and he went back to his microscope.</p><p>John asked, “Are-Are they trying to trace it – trace the call?”</p><p>“The bomber's too smart for that.” He said as his phone beeped again, alerting them of another message. He didn’t look up and said brusquely, “Pass me my phone.”</p><p>John looked around the room, but couldn’t see it anywhere, so he asked, “Where is it?”</p><p>“Jacket.” Was the curt reply he received and he straightened with disbelief when he saw the man was wearing his jacket. His eyes met Helena’s, who was smirking, just waiting for John to throw something at Sherlock’s head. But then she noticed his clenched fists and how rigid his body had gone as he glared at his flatmate; she took pity on him and she was nearby Sherlock anyway. So, she stepped closer, standing right beside Sherlock. Taking the lapel of his jacket in one hand, she pulled it closer before moving her other hand around until she reached the inside of his pocket. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw him scrutinizing her, but his eyes snapped back to the microscope when he saw her looking.</p><p>Pulling his phone out, she looked at the name on the screen and muttered, “Mycroft.”</p><p>“Delete it.” He murmured back.</p><p>“Delete it?” John asked confused.</p><p>She passed the phone to John as Sherlock said, “Missile plans are out of the country now. Nothing we can do about.”</p><p>John opened the message and read.</p><p>
  <strong>Re: Bruce-Partington Plans</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Any progress on Andrew West's death?</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Mycroft</strong>
</p><p>“Well, Mycroft thinks there is. He's texted you eight times. Must be important.” John said and Sherlock looked up and asked, “Then why didn't he cancel his dental appointment?”</p><p>“His what?” John sighed tiredly.</p><p>“Mycroft likes to talk. Why do you think he ‘kidnaps’ people?” Helena told John with a grin she couldn’t contain.</p><p>“Right.” Eying her, Sherlock mumbled before he said, “Mycroft never texts if he can talk. Look, Andrew West stole the missile plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains. End of story. The only mystery is that why is my brother so determined to bore me when somebody else is being so delightfully interesting.”</p><p>Sherlock looked back into the microscope again and Helena just stared at him, hoping that she had heard something wrong. One look at John and nope, she hadn’t. He had, indeed, said it.</p><p>“Try and remember there's a woman here who might die.” She told him as if he had forgotten.</p><p>“What for?” He said before looking up at her like she was an idiot and said tauntingly, “This hospital's full of people dying, Helena. Why don't you go and cry by their bedside and see what good it does them? You’ve been in a war… did you save people by crying over their corpses?”</p><p>She recoiled at that, feeling as if she had been kicked. She had lost so many loved ones during the war and it felt like he was dismissing every life that had been lost. Faces of those ‘corpses’ and people who were left behind to grieve swam in front of her eyes. George, who hadn’t been able to cast his Patronus ever since he lost Fred; Mrs Weasley, who still knitted sweaters for his son; Padma, who too had lost her twin; Dennis, who had lost his older brother Collin; Andromeda and Teddy, who lost their families; Lavender, who became Greyback’s meal… and so many more.</p><p>Suddenly her grief turned to anger as she stared at the detective coldly and snapped, “Yes… stupid girl! Crying over her dead boyfriend, parents, godfather, friends, classmates and professors! It won’t bring them back!” her eyes were burning as she hissed furiously, “Well, not all of us have been privileged enough to grow in a loving household. There are orphans like Teddy, who lost both his parents, grandmother and godfather just days after his birth! Or like me, who spent their childhood with relatives who hate their very existence! Not all of us are heartless bastards who wouldn’t care about the people who are left behind to suffer!”</p><p>His eyes went sharp at her words and he stared at her with his cold grey eyes. Helena had to clench her fists, so she wouldn’t end up punching him. She wanted to leave. She didn’t want him to see her crying over people who had been gone for a decade now. She didn’t want him to see her pain and call her a moron because she hadn’t been able to move on. She was so… so damn foolish to think that he was her friend. He wasn’t! The boy she knew was long gone.</p><p>Sherlock opened his mouth to say something, but she looked away from him, not willing to listen to another insult. All she wanted to do was leave, but before she could tell John that she was leaving, who was staring back at her with pity, the door opened and Molly entered the lab.</p><p>Sherlock looked across the screen which was flashing 'SEARCH COMPLETE' and cried out delightfully, “Ah!”</p><p>“Any luck?” Molly asked while John moved closer to Helena, hoping a friendly presence might comfort her if nothing else.</p><p>“Oh, yes!” Sherlock said triumphantly.</p><p>As she moved over to look at the screen, a man in his thirties entered through the door. He was wearing slacks and a T-shirt as he looked at everyone before stopping at the door and said apologetically, “Oh, sorry. I didn't…”</p><p>“Jim, hi!” Jim turned to leave the room, but Molly stopped him. “Come in! Come in!”</p><p>Sherlock gave Molly a once over before casting a discreet glance at Helena and went back to his work.</p><p>Jim closed the door behind him and walked over to stand behind Molly introduced him to Sherlock over-enthusiastically, “Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes.”</p><p>Helena rolled her eyes at the woman’s ‘crush’. Because she knew for certain the doctor’s heart would be crushed by the man, she ‘loved’.</p><p>Not noticing the apparent tension in the room, Molly turned to look at her and her smile fell for a second before it was back again and she said, “And this is his friend, Helena Potter and, er…” not noticing how Helena stiffened she looked at John apologetically, who replied apathetically, “John Watson. Hi.”</p><p>Helena observed the man. There was something different about him. Something she couldn’t put her finger on, but the vibe coming off him was enough to make her wary. He seemed harmless though, but her eyes widened when she saw him gazing lustfully at Sherlock’s ass rather than Molly’s.</p><p>She linked her arm with John’s and whispered in his ear, “Molly’s boyfriend is gay!”</p><p>She ignored Sherlock, who had somehow heard her, not that they were standing very far and his eyes met hers before going back to his work; John’s eyes widened as he looked at her before his eyes took in the man.</p><p>“So, you're Sherlock Holmes. Molly's told me all about you. You on one of your cases?” Jim walked closer to Sherlock, forcing John and her to take a step back.</p><p>“Jim works in IT, upstairs. That's how we met. Office romance.” She and Jim giggled in unison, while Helena and John exchanged a look.</p><p>Sherlock briefly glanced at the man before returning to look into his microscope and stated, “Gay.”</p><p>Molly's smile fell and she asked, “Sorry, what?”</p><p> Sherlock raised his head and his eyes met Helena’s again, who glared at him darkly. He turned his head towards Jim and gave him a fake smile and said, “Nothing. Um, hey.”</p><p>“Hey.” Jim smiled back shyly before knocking a petri dish off the table. “Sorry. Sorry!” he scrambled to pick it up, giggling nervously.</p><p>John turned away from what was about to become the ‘future’ crime scene and face-palmed, while Sherlock glared at Jim, making no effort to hide his irritation.</p><p>Jim wandered back to Molly and said, “Well, I'd better be off. I'll see you at the Fox. About sixish?”</p><p>“Yeah!” Molly smiled at him.</p><p>He put his hand on Molly’s back but gazed at Sherlock and said softly, “Bye.”</p><p>“Bye.” Molly nodded.</p><p>“It was nice to meet you.” Jim told Sherlock wistfully, who ignored his existence, so John spoke instead, “You too.”</p><p>Jim looked at him awkwardly before leaving the room.</p><p>Once the door was closed, Molly asked Sherlock, “What'd you mean, gay? We're together.”</p><p>Sherlock turned his head to look at her and said, “And domestic bliss must suit you, Molly. You've put on three pounds since I last saw you.”</p><p>“Two and a half.” She said with a glare.</p><p>“No, three.”</p><p>“Sherlock...” John tried to interrupt, when Molly, looking like she was about to cry stated angrily, “He's not gay! Why do you have to spoil…? He's not!”</p><p>Sherlock didn’t look at her and snorted, “With that level of personal grooming?”</p><p>John frowned at Helena before turning towards Sherlock and stated incredulously, “Because he puts a bit of product in his hair? I put product in my hair.”</p><p>“You wash your hair. There's a difference. No-no – tinted eyelashes; clear signs of taurine cream around the frown lines; those tired clubber's eyes. Then there's his underwear.” Sherlock listed off.</p><p>“His underwear?” Molly repeated bemusedly.</p><p>“Visible above the waistline – very visible; very particular brand,” Sherlock spoke.</p><p>“Well, er… he was more interested in checking out Sherlock’s ass than yours.” Helena blurted hastily, knowing it would hurt Molly more if she found out later. Now that made three pairs of eyes snap towards her and they all glared at her, making her grimace. But she looked at Molly and said, “And the extremely suggestive fact that he just left his number under the dish for Sherlock.”</p><p>Nodding, Sherlock reached for the piece of paper under the petri dish and showed it to Molly before adding, “…and I'd say you'd better break it off now and save yourself the pain.”</p><p>“Sorry,” Helena whispered, but Molly’s eyes were focused solely on Sherlock before she turned around and ran out of the room.</p><p>As usual, Sherlock looked surprised at her reaction and Helena sighed.</p><p>“Charming! Well done.” John scolded before turning towards Helena and said, “Him? I can understand, but I didn’t expect something like this from you.”</p><p>Her face fell and it was Sherlock who replied, “Just saving her time. Isn't that kinder?”</p><p>John crossed his arms across his chest and said, “Kinder? No, no, Sherlock. That wasn't kind.”</p><p>Huffing, Sherlock threw Jim’s number on the table before motioning towards one of the trainers and said to John, “Go on, then.”</p><p>“Mmm?” John hummed confused.</p><p>“You know what I do. Off you go.” He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest and looked at John expectantly.</p><p>John looked at his watch before shaking his head. “Oh… no.”</p><p>“Go on.” Sherlock insisted.</p><p>“I'm not gonna stand here so you can humiliate me while I try and disseminate...” John stated.</p><p>Sherlock interrupted him and said, “An outside eye, a second opinion – it's very useful to me.”</p><p>“Yeah, right!” John scoffed.</p><p>“Really,” Sherlock stressed.</p><p>John turned back to look at Helena, who shrugged.</p><p>“Fine.” Clearing his throat, John picks up a shoe before looking at it and its partner lying on the table. “Oh, they’re just a pair of sho... trainers.” He corrected himself immediately.</p><p>“Good,” Sherlock told him as she did with Teddy when teaching him something. Then, he looked at Helena before looking away and picked his phone up, while John stared at the trainers and spoke, “Umm... They're in good nick. I'd say they were pretty new... except the sole has been well-worn, so the owner must have had them for a while.”</p><p>It hadn’t missed Helena how Sherlock had huffed when John said ‘pretty new’ but sighed silently when the doctor corrected himself. “Er, very’ 80s. Probably one of those retro designs.”</p><p>“You're on sparkling form. What else?” Sherlock asked, studying the other shoe.</p><p>“Well, they're quite big, so… A man’s.” He said uncertainly.</p><p>“But…” Sherlock asked looking up from his phone.</p><p>John looked inside the shoe and at the blue smudges on its side before amending himself, “But there are traces of a name inside in felt-tip. Adults don't write their names inside their shoes, so these belonged to a kid.”</p><p>“Excellent. What else?” Sherlock stated, looking a little proud.</p><p>“Er…” John looked at the shoe again before putting it down. “…that's it.”</p><p>“That's it,” Sherlock repeated back and John nodded.</p><p>“How did I do?” John asked with a pleased smile.</p><p>“Well, John; really well.” Sherlock paused momentarily before adding, “I mean, you missed almost everything of importance, but, um, you know…”</p><p>He lifted his hand and John gave the trainer back, shaking his head with frustration. Sherlock looked at it before he turned around his chair and his eyes landed on Helena again. He held the trainer up, staring at her coldly. She glared at him, well aware of what he was trying to do. She was tired of his silly games but she straightened up and took the trainer from his hand.</p><p>She looked at it from all sides before bringing it closer to sniff it. Looking inside, she nodded to herself before stating, “The owner loved these. Scrubbed them clean. Whitened them where they got discoloured. Changed the laces… at least thrice.”</p><p>“Four.”</p><p>She ignored him, while John put his elbows on the desk and lowered his head with despair. Sherlock’s eyes were glued to her now as she continued, “There are traces of flaky skin where his fingers have come into contact with them, so he suffered from some skin condition.”</p><p>“Eczema,” Sherlock said but was ignored again.</p><p>“Shoes are well-worn but much more so on the inner side… which means the owner had weak arches. British-made, twenty years old.” She finished before taking Sherlock’s hand and slapped the trainer on his hand with enough force to hurt, feeling satisfied when he winced.</p><p>“20 years?” John straightened up.</p><p>“They're not retro – they're original.” Helena said before adding awkwardly, “Dudley… Er, my cousin got these for his birthday that year.”</p><p>Sherlock showed John an image on his phone and said, “Limited edition: two blue stripes, 1989.”</p><p>“But there's still mud on them. They look new.” John asked aghast.</p><p>“Someone's kept them that way. Quite a bit of mud caked on the soles. The analysis shows it's from Sussex, with London mud overlaying it.” Sherlock looked at the trainer thoughtfully.</p><p>“How do you know?” John asked.</p><p>“Pollen. Clear as a map reference to us.” Sherlock nodded towards the computer screen. Two dots were flashing on a map of Britain, one around the borders of East and West Sussex and the other to the south-east of London.</p><p>Sherlock said, “South of the river too. So, the kid who owned these trainers came to London from Sussex twenty years ago and left them behind.”</p><p>“So what happened to him?” John asked.</p><p>“Something bad.” Sherlock looked up at John. “He loved those shoes, remember. He'd never leave them filthy. Wouldn't leave them go unless he had to. So, a child with big feet gets…” he stopped suddenly, staring ahead as if remembering something and mumbled softly, “Oh.”</p><p>“What?” Helena asked, for a moment forgetting her anger.</p><p>“Carl Powers.” He said softly.</p><p>John asked, “Sorry, Who?”</p><p>“Carl Powers,” Sherlock replied again, still staring ahead blankly, clearly remembering something.</p><p>“What is it?” John asked again.</p><p>“It's where I began,” Sherlock said, making Helena and John exchange a confused look.</p><hr/><p>They were picking their coats, ready to leave when Helena looked at John and said, “Uh, John? I’ll see you at home.”</p><p>John frowned at her, still looking concerned, but it was Sherlock who turned towards her and asked, “Where are you going?”</p><p>She didn’t look at him, shoving her hands in her pockets and told him coldly, “None of your business.”</p><p>“You are angry.” He realised suddenly before straightening up and stared at her icily, but received no response and said, “Come along, John!”</p><p>He didn’t spare her a glance as he turned around and stalked out the door. John looked at her apologetically and she waved him off with half a smile.</p><p>She walked into the bathroom and locked it behind her before resting her forehead on the door. She felt her throat clogging as the faces of people swan in front of her. She had never cried for anyone… not really. Teddy had always been her priority ever since Andromeda first handed her a little blue bundle. She had never felt more alone like she was feeling in this particular moment. So, she decided to do what she hadn’t done for years. She apparated to Shell Cottage to visit her best friend and the boy who had stolen her heart all those years ago.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">In the Cab</span> </strong>
</p><p>“Did you know?” John asked a bit angrily.</p><p>“What?” Sherlock mumbled, not paying attention.</p><p>“Did you know about the people, her family and friends she had lost…” John started, but was cut off when Sherlock snapped, “Of course, I didn’t know, John!”</p><p>He was feeling frustrated that his friend would think that he had deliberately hurt Helena. He didn’t understand emotions, but even he knew that he had been out of line. Sighing, he said, “Her parents died when she was young and there are clear signs that she was abused as a child. It’s obvious that she had been in a war…”</p><p>Sherlock trailed off because he hadn’t known. Despite knowing that everyone surrounded by her had been through a war, he hadn’t known that almost everyone she must’ve known had died. That explained why the friendship she had with Hermione and Robert was above others or why she valued the life of her friends above her own. He might be a sociopath, but he had regretted his words as soon as he had seen the hurt in her eyes. He knew he should’ve apologised, but he didn’t do apologies and then she had left without even looking at him!</p><p>“You should apologise,” John stated after a couple of seconds.</p><p>Sherlock didn’t reply and turned his face towards the window.</p><p>They were about to reach home when John asked, “Who’s Teddy?”</p><p>Rolling his eyes at his friend’s cluelessness, he stated with frustration, “Her son, John!”</p><p>“What?!” John gaped at him shell-shocked and Sherlock shook his head.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">221B</span> </strong>
</p><p>John entered the kitchen and asked, “Can I help?” Sherlock didn’t react so he tried again, “I want to help. There's only five hours left.”</p><p>The phone beeped and Sherlock looked down to the text. Frowning, he thought, <em>‘Not Helena.’</em></p><p>Annoyed, he dismissed his brothers’ text and asked John, “Have you heard from Helena?”</p><p>John blinked, thrown off-guard by the sudden change in topic but shook his head when Sherlock raised a questing eyebrow. “Uh… no.”</p><p>Sherlock picked his phone and fired yet another text to the witch.</p><p>
  <strong>Don’t ignore me! -SH</strong>
</p><p>He didn’t reply to John and went back to his work when John’s phone beeped, alerting them of a text.</p><p>“It's your brother. He's texting me now.” John frowned. “How does he know my number?”</p><p>“Must be a root canal.” Sherlock mused to himself.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">221C</span> </strong>
</p><p>His hand was halfway raised to knock on the door when the nerves settled in. His fist hovered over the old wood door as he thought about the pig ears he had supported and shuddered. It had taken two days of ‘begging’ before she had relented and he got his ears back.</p><p>But she had been ignoring his texts for hours now and he knew she was back. He had heard the sound of her door half an hour ago. Now that the case was solved, he resolved himself and knocked.</p><p>He heard footsteps before the lock slid out of place and the door opened. Helena peered at him before her eyes narrowed to slits and she closed the door sharply before he could open his mouth.</p><p>Sherlock scowled before knocking again, but the door remained firmly shut, so he knocked yet again and barked, “Open up!”</p><p>There was no reply so he raised his fists and knocked loudly and incessantly.</p><p>“Stop that!” Helena hissed and he smiled. At least she was talking to him again.</p><p>“I will when you open the door.” He called back.</p><p>“Go away!”</p><p>“Really, Helena!” he huffed. “Stop being childish.”</p><p>“I will when you go away.” She said.</p><p>He scowled before calling back, “I know how to break in the door!”</p><p>“Seriously, Sherlock! I’ll turn you into a freaking bat!” She threatened.</p><p>His eyes widened minutely and he paused the pounding on her door. It took everything in him not to pout like a toddler, but he steeled himself and started knocking again. “I’ll keep this up until you open the door!”</p><p>There was silence before the door opened abruptly and she hissed, “What do you want?”</p><p>She looked frustrated and furious and her hair looked wild like she had been running her fingers through them all day. She was wearing an ugly, oversized pink sweater that was more than a decade old.</p><p>“You are ignoring me.” He said with a mind glare.</p><p>“Very astute.” She replied mockingly, “Now, why don’t you go back and wait for another case? I’m sure it’ll turn up soon. Have fun.”</p><p>“I – I…” he scrambled for words before stating in an accusatory manner, “You didn’t tell me everything.”</p><p>That was the wrong thing to say and even he knew that.</p><p>Her eyes turned cold as she said, “No, but I trusted you to tell you enough. I know you hate ‘sentiments’ and I don’t know what made you hate them… but I need you to know that those ‘sentiments and emotions’ are the only reason I’m alive. Even though my mum was gone, her love saved me time and time again. Love is not a ‘defect’. It makes you stronger.”</p><p>He didn’t know what to say, feeling agitated, but he didn’t get a chance as she continued, “My godfather was killed in right front of me. I was young and he was the only family I had. I lost it there for a bit – the anger and hurt was enough for Voldemort to possess me, and he did – mind and body; he would’ve succeeded in killing me too if it hadn’t been for the people who loved me. It was the only reason I was able to defeat Voldemort. He never understood the power of true love and that became his downfall.”</p><p>She looked downhearted as she added quietly, but he heard it loud and clear, “I thought you were my friend, so I showed you a part of my life which could’ve potentially taken away my magic. Professor Dumbledore told me once that one should not pity the living or the dead, but the one who lives without knowing what love is. I’m not angry. I feel sad for you because you don’t know what true friendship and love means.”</p><p>As they both stared at each other, Sherlock didn’t know how to respond. His face was set in a stony mask before he turned around and stormed out of the house without another word.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Somewhere on the Streets of London</span> </strong>
</p><p>Sherlock ignored yet another text that was undoubtedly from Mycroft. He had already texted his meddling brother to take his umbrella and shove it up his ass.</p><p>The killer kept the shoes all these years. It was brilliant, really. But now that he had solved the case, he was bored again. He knew there would be another one soon, but it couldn’t be sooner.</p><p>His anger flared as he remembered Helena’s words. He didn’t need her pity! She was a fool just like others to think that sentiments made you stronger. He scoffed at the very notion. She would’ve won either way. She was trained and didn’t need others, maybe as a backup, but still!</p><p>It took him a while to understand that the odd feeling he had been experiencing since he had left 221C was hurt and not anger. He stopped abruptly, realising that he had never been hurt before. If he had, he must’ve deleted it and for the right reasons too! This wasn’t a nice feeling. He was hurt because she had dismissed him just as easily like he was… someone like Anderson!</p><p>Another realisation hit him and the anger vanished sooner than he would’ve expected. It was the reason behind Helena’s anger. She too was hurt, wasn’t she? Hurt because he had so blatantly disregarded her family and friends who had died. They were killed right in front of her – not one but numerous people. Maybe John had been right. He should probably apologise.</p><p>Nodding to himself, he turned around to go back when other words she had said floated in front of his eyes. She had said ‘Voldemort had possessed her’. So, possessing someone’s mind and the body was a possibility for wizards and witches. This scared him more than anything ever had. He couldn’t imagine any idiot possessing his mind and he shuddered involuntarily.</p><p>And suddenly, he felt a cold, looming presence behind him. He tensed before turning abruptly and hit the man that was about to attack him. He held the man’s hand which held the knife and easily headbutted him. The man fell back with a grunt at the same moment he felt a sharp and thin needle digging into his neck.</p><p><em>‘Oh. The man was a distraction to trap him.’ </em>He thought dizzily, already feeling the effects of the drug that had been injected into his system. The feeling wasn’t new, but right now he felt out of control as he was unable to make sense of things happening around him. His veins were chilling in a familiar haze of overdose. The phone slid from his hand and fell on the pavement just as another message beeped. He didn’t realise he was falling until his head hit the ground underneath him. His ears rung and his vision blurred even though he turned his head to the side to see who it was or stand up, but to no avail. His body trembled as two people picked him up and threw him onto the floor of a van. He grunted when he realised his consciousness was slipping and it wasn’t long before his eyes drifted closed.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">221C</span> </strong>
</p><p>Someone knocked on the door and Helena groaned angrily. She was going to murder the man! Stomping towards the door, she threw it open, only to come face to face with a pale John and worried-looking Mycroft.</p><p>“Oh, good. You’re home.” Mycroft said pleasantly as he entered inside her flat. If it wouldn’t have been his eyes, she would’ve never figured out that something was wrong. He asked, “When was the last time you saw Sherlock?”</p><p>She looked at him with a frown and said, “About an hour or two ago, I reckon. Why?”</p><p>“Sherlock has been kidnapped!” John snapped suddenly.</p><p>Her eyes widened and she gasped, “What?!”</p><p>John shook his head before whirling in on Mycroft and shouted, “We should be looking for Sherlock and the people who kidnapped him! What the hell are we doing here?”</p><p>“The car they took him in was unlicensed. They dodged the cameras without difficulty. Whoever kidnapped him had it planned for quite some time now.” Mycroft told him calmly and mused, “Russians, I believe. Sherlock helped with a case some time ago… Well, you don’t need to know the details, do you?”</p><p>He turned back to John and said in a clipped tone, “Now, if you’ll let me speak, I’m here for a reason.”</p><p>Mycroft looked at Helena, looking cool and composed as ever, but it was clear that he was barely keeping it together.</p><p>“I’m aware of the… fight you two had not long ago. It’s hard to deal with Sherlock, isn’t it?” he smiled thinly before adding with some difficulty, “I’m afraid… it might take a little bit longer for us to find Sherlock. Despite your differences in opinions, I believe you still… care for my brother. Could you… help?”</p><p>“I – uh… yes.” Coming out of her shock, she nodded and said, “I’ll need a map of London and something of Sherlock’s. Something personal, like a hair or a nail?”</p><p>Mycroft wrinkled his nose but fired a quick text to someone; John stared between the two aghast and yelled, “What the hell are you two on about?!”</p><p>Mycroft looked bemused and Helena grimaced before looking at the older Holmes and suggested innocently, “You should probably tell him and then inform Kingsley?”</p><p>The look of bemused turned to irritation as he glared at her, and she looked away hastily, knowing she was throwing him under the bus, but after Sherlock, Kingsley would have her head if she informed another muggle!</p><p>A young woman entered the room and held out a plastic bag which had a few strands of hair and a folded piece of paper. Mycroft took them from her without a word and handed it to Helena, who took them with a nod.</p><p>She spread the map on the table urgently before taking out the strands of hair from the bag and dropped it on the paper. She pulled her wand out and pointed it at the map before mumbling, “Appare Vestigium.”</p><p>Bright golden light illuminated from her wand before swirling it on top of the map. With a woosh, it vanished out the backyard.</p><p>Mycroft was not amused as he stared down at her with his lips pursed.</p><p>“Tracking spell. It’ll lead me to Sherlock.” She informed him, summoning her bag and uttered, “Accio firebolt!”</p><p>An old-looking broomstick flew into her hand and three pairs of eyes widened. Mycroft stepped back, eying the broomstick like it was about to hit him in the head; John was gaping, feeling like he was about to have an attack. Helena ignored them as she mounted the broom and soared up and out the balcony.</p><p>“What…?!” John gaped, clearly mystified.</p><p>She turned the broomstick sharply, looking down to see three dumbfounded faces that had followed her out.</p><p>“Oh, you won’t be able to follow. I’ll send you the word as soon as I find him.” She told Mycroft awkwardly but received no reply. With that, she was off, following the golden light.</p><p>John, Mycroft and Anthea stared where Helena had been hovering on a broomstick and John choked out, “H-how? What – what’s happening?”</p><p>Mycroft sighed tiredly.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Somewhere in London</span> </strong>
</p><p>She followed the light to an ancient-looking abandoned building in Richmond. Shoving her broomstick in her small bag unceremoniously before casting her Patronus silently to informing Mycroft about the address. Once done, she soundlessly walked in, belatedly realising that sending a corporeal Patronus probably wasn’t a good idea. Shrugging, she moved upstairs slowly where she could hear voices from.</p><p>She heard the sound of a whip as she moved up and she hurried, anxious and worried about what she would find, hoping she wasn’t too late. Anger burned through her when she saw Sherlock hanging limply from the cleaning as the man behind him whipped him senseless. His coat was lying in a corner while his shirt was in tatters nearby. Pained moans escaped him every time the whip made contact with his back and the men around him laughed.</p><p>There were five men in the room including the one whipping Sherlock. She reigned in her rage as the man stopped whipping and grabbed Sherlock’s hair, forcing him to look up. Helena noticed that his eyes were hazy as he looked at the man holding a gun meters away from his face, trying to focus, but it was clear that he had been injected with something.</p><p>“Well, as nice as it was to see you in person, I'm afraid your time is up, Mr Holmes.” The man holding the gun said with an unmistakable glee in his voice.</p><p>Sherlock’s face was impassive as he stared ahead until his eyes met hers and they widened briefly. He blinked a couple of times before masking his shock and looked back at the man holding the gun and croaked out, “I believe – you’re wrong.”</p><p>The hand holding the gun faltered and the man asked bemused, “What?”</p><p>“I don’t think – I’m going – to die today.” He informed the man smugly.</p><p>Helena nearly facepalmed. The bloody git was playing with the attacker! Shaking her head, she pointed her wand at the nearest man and stupefied him. The man slumped like a sack of potatoes, alerting others, who turned around hastily, waving their guns all around.</p><p>She heard the safety click and hastily conjured a shield around Sherlock, just in time as the sound of gunshot permeated the air.</p><p>BANG!</p><p>Sherlock blinked along with everyone when the bullet collided with something right before it could hit the detective and fell on the ground. Chaos erupted but she easily stupefied the remaining four before binding them, so they wouldn’t be able to run in case they woke up before the police arrived.</p><p>She rushed to Sherlock, who searched her face for something she couldn’t comprehend, at least not until he spoke. “You came.”</p><p>His tone was surprised as he stared at her dazedly and Helena realised that he wasn’t expecting her to search for him, much less saving him.</p><p>She swallowed hard as she saw his torn back and whispered, “Of course, I did.”</p><p>She held onto his shoulder, mindful of his back and whispered a single spell to unlock the bindings around his wrists. He fell on top on her and she grunted under his weight before casting a lightning charm.</p><p>“You weren’t talking to me.” He mumbled into her shoulder in a tone that reminded her so much of Teddy.</p><p>“I am now.” She whispered back and rubbed his arm comfortingly, but he didn’t reply and went lax in her grip.</p><p><em>‘She would need to heal his wounds and give him the pain potion immediately’</em>. She thought.</p><p>Knowing she couldn’t apparate him in his current condition, she looked around until her eyes fell on his coat and she whispered a non-verbal ‘Accio’. The coat flew into her hand before she pointed her wand at it and muttered, “Portus.’ It glowed for a second before the white light vanished.</p><p>As she readjusted her hold onto him, he whimpered with pain unconsciously. She pressed her lips to the side of his head and whispered, “Just hold on for a bit. I’m getting you home.”</p><p>She didn’t receive a reply but tightened her hold on him while her other hand clutched his coat tightly and she closed her eyes.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">221B</span> </strong>
</p><p>He was still unable to believe everything Mycroft had told him.</p><p>Another world, hidden in London!</p><p>Wizards and Witches!</p><p>Helena was one of them!</p><p>She had magic and the Queen was aware of their society.</p><p>And on top of it, they weren’t allowed to reveal the existence of any of it or their minds would be wiped clean!</p><p>Bloody Hell!</p><p>John jumped to his feet when someone appeared out of thin air into his living room and his eyes widened when he saw Helena holding Sherlock, who was covered in blood. Without thought, he rushed to her side, only for her to stop him. She waved her <strong><em>wand</em></strong> at Sherlock, who starting floating mid-air, looking peaceful in his slumber. John didn’t know how to respond as he gaped until he realised that they needed to take Sherlock to the hospital. He told her this, but she shook her head.</p><p>“I have potions that can heal him faster. They’re in a wooden box in the cupboard in my room. Could you get them, please?” she asked slowly.</p><p>John wanted to say no and stay with Sherlock, who was defenceless, but realised that Mycroft himself asked for Helena’s help, so he might trust her. Nodding, he ran downstairs, his mind trying to digest everything he had just learnt.</p><p>With the box in hand which wouldn’t open, he ran back up only to find the room empty and for a second, he panicked, until she called, “In here!”</p><p>Shaking himself out of his shock, he barged into Sherlock’s room. The detective was floating a couple of inches off his bed with his face down and Helena was waving her wand over him. John took in a startled breath when he saw the welts and torn skin now that the blood was cleaned. The pattern stating that he had been whipped and John felt useless as he saw Helena rummaging through the box.</p><p>“Can I help?” he asked before adding unnecessarily, “I’m a doctor.”</p><p>Startled, she looked at him as if she had forgotten he was there but nodded and said shakily, “Dittany will heal the wounds. It’s a good thing he’s unconscious. It can be very painful.”</p><p>She opened the glass bottle and started drizzling the clear liquid on the torn skin of his back. Smoke started billowing from his back and Sherlock grunted with pain. John watched with awe as the skin stitched itself back and wound healed, looking days old right in front of his eyes. By now, Sherlock’s whimpering has increased and he was twisting in the air, clearly in pain.</p><p>John watched with utter astonishment as Helena ran her fingers in Sherlock’s messy lock’s tenderly and leaned down to whisper something in his ear. The twitching stopped and the man went limp again.</p><p>He was still gaping when she handed him a jar of green gooey looking substance and said, “It’s a healing ointment. It will heal the rest of his wounds or scars that are left.”</p><p>Nodding dumbly, he applied it on the ‘healed’ wounds, now realising why she had been horrified about being ‘sewen’. Shaking his head, he continued until Sherlock’s back was covered in green and he saw her taking a relieved breath before she waved her wand again and turned Sherlock onto his back, still floating above his bed.</p><p>Then she held her hand out and three bottles few out, settling themselves next to her. Without looking at him, she dropped three drops of each in Sherlock’s mouth and he was grateful that she told him what they were - blood replenishing potion, pain potion and sleeping draught.</p><p>Then she adjusted the room’s temperature with her wand and slumped onto the chair next to Sherlock’s bed with a sigh and muttered, “He won’t wake up until morning.”</p><p>John leaned back against the wall, flabbergasted, still trying to process everything when Helena spoke softly, “Do you hate me now?”</p><p>He looked at her startled before shaking his head. “Why? Why would I hate you?”</p><p>She bit her lip and looked down before mumbling, “I’m not normal. That’s why my relatives hated me.”</p><p>“You’re not abnormal.” He stated instantly, feeling angry on her behalf. “I’ve never seen anything like this in my life. It was quite extraordinary.”</p><p>“So, you don’t hate me?” she asked hopefully.</p><p>“Of course, I don’t!” he told her vehemently before asking curiously, “Will you be able to show me some magic?”</p><p>She beamed and was out of the chair, hugging him before he could blink.</p><p>For once, he hugged back, not feeling awkward at all.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Next Day</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">221B</span> </strong>
</p><p>He blinked his sleep away, feeling surprisingly rested and sat up slowly. Sherlock didn’t remember the last time he had slept this deeply and he looked around until his eyes fell on the green substance on his sheet, suddenly remembering the events of the day before. He had been kidnapped; the Russians had managed to trick him. Not only had they managed to drug him but they had whipped him to the point that there had been nothing but pain.</p><p>Surprisingly, he didn’t feel any ounce of discomfort, let alone pain as he moved. He remembered seeing Helena through his drugged haze. She had stopped the bullet before it could hit him and the green substance was telling that she had healed him. Springing out of his bed, he looked into the mirror and stared at his back. It should’ve taken him days to heal but the welts seemed months old! The marks were still there, but he had been healed!</p><p>The potions were truly amazing.</p><p>His mind had been foggy, but for the most part, he remembered it all. She had been angry, so why did she save him?</p><p><em>‘And, where was she? Did she leave? He was hurt, wasn’t he? She should be here!’ </em>He thought and rushed out to the living room, before coming to a halt when he saw her slumped on his couch. He must’ve made some kind of noise because she sprang awake and looked around wildly until her eyes fell on him and she sighed with relief. She yawned and kneaded her neck, making him realise that she had slept on the couch.</p><p>“Oh, you’re awake.” She mumbled, rubbing her eyes tiredly. “How are you feeling?”</p><p>“Surprisingly fine. No pain at all.”  He told her truthfully as he studied her, unable to understand why she would help him.</p><p>“Good. That’s good.” She said, before standing up from the couch and walked towards him. She motioned for him to turn around, but he just stared confused, she rolled her eyes and manhandled him until he was facing the other way. He let her but stiffened when he felt her fingers on his back. He observed her through the mirror above the fireplace and saw her frowning as she mumbled, “These should’ve healed.”</p><p>He shivered involuntarily as she traced the scars left behind softly before pulling her hand back and asked quietly, “Are you cold?”</p><p>He turned back, facing her and replied, “No.”</p><p> “Oh.” She looked at him and said, “You should apply the salve once more. It will heal the remaining sores and marks.”</p><p>He gave a nod, but continued to stare at her and remarked, “You came for me.”</p><p>Her eyes darted towards the door as she fiddled with the loose strands of her hair and nodded. “I – well, yes.”</p><p>“Why?” he questioned.</p><p>Startled, her eyes snapped to his and she asked, “What do you mean why? Why wouldn’t I?”</p><p>“You were angry and you weren’t talking to me.” He told her before adding in a rush, “I, er… You were hurt because of what I said.”</p><p>She exhaled loudly and much to his surprise, settled herself in John’s chair before pointing towards the other and said, “Sit.”</p><p>Staring at her, he took the seat opposite hers reluctantly as she looked right at him and said seriously, “I know you hate sentiments and you don’t understand them, but I want you to listen carefully, alright?”</p><p>He gave an uncertain nod, but leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, making himself comfortable as if he wasn’t shirtless.</p><p><em>‘He looked ridiculous.’</em> She thought, but shook herself and said, “What I said yesterday – the people that I’ve lost, they were all killed right in front of my eyes… because of me.”</p><p>His eyes sharpened at her words, but other than the lifting of his chin, Sherlock didn’t respond.</p><p>“They were trying to save me… all of them and they paid the price with their lives. I didn’t tell you earlier because it didn’t seem…” she stopped, trying to find the right words before stating, “Anyway… Sirius, my godfather was in the wrong place only because Voldemort managed to lure me there under false pretence. I should’ve listened to Hermione, but I was stubborn and he was killed because of me. They killed Fred because he refused to tell Voldemort where I was. Cedric was 17 when he was killed because he was trying to protect me. Hermione’s parents were murdered because she was my friend. She was tortured because she refused to tell them anything about my whereabouts. Dobby, he was a friend and he died to keep me safe. I don’t remember my dad, but I remember my mum’s voice as she begged Voldemort to spare my life and kill her instead. He killed them because they tried to keep me safe. I had a professor – Snape. I hated him and didn’t realise until it was too late that he too was trying to save me and he gave his life in the process. He was in love with my mum and her death gave him the strength to fight against Voldemort. Hedwig, Professor Moody, Teddy’s parents… they were all targeted because of me.”</p><p>Swallowing hard, she took a breath before adding slowly, “I know crying won’t bring them back, but they were my friends. The only family I’ve ever known and they gave up everything for me.”</p><p>She stopped to collect herself before continuing, “I – what you said hurt… and I was angry, but that doesn’t mean I’ll leave you to fend for yourself. You couldn’t even imagine how many times Ron, Hermione and I have fought. Even when we were in hiding, the circumstances were less than stellar and Hermione left… but she came back and we defeated Voldemort together.” She told him seriously, making sure he would understand before taking his hands in hers tentatively.</p><p>He stiffened, but when he didn’t immediately snatch them back or throw insults her way, she sighed before adding slowly, “I want you to know that even if I’m not here, I will always be there if you need me.”</p><p>Sherlock stared into her eyes before looking down at her hands which were holding his and swallowed compulsively. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. She was promising something which he didn’t understand. How was she so sure that she wouldn’t end up hating him like everyone else? How could she have so much faith? He had no idea and it should’ve frustrated him, but for some reason, he felt relieved. She was not an idiot, and she knew he wasn’t a good man, but still, not only did she offer him her friendship, she had followed him everywhere and now, had promised to stay with him. She didn’t expect anything in return and had rescued <strong><em>him</em></strong> or he would’ve been dead!</p><p>She was relatively smart and she even helped him with the cases!</p><p>For some reason, he wanted her to be here with him.</p><p>And he would make sure she stayed!</p><p>Leaning forward, he made sure to look into her eyes before surprising her by turning over their hands and wrapped his fingers on the underside of her wrists. Startled, she stared back at him, but he only tightened his grip around her wrists until someone cleared their throat and Helena jumped nearly a mile away, snatching her hands back as if they were on fire.</p><p>Sherlock merely looked at John, who was clearly amused as he kept the bag of food on the table and asked, “Everything alright?”</p><p>“Yes.” Sherlock nodded.</p><p>“You think you could put something on?” John said, pointing towards his bare chest, barely keeping his laugh in as he looked how the two flushed.</p><p>Sherlock glared at him but the effect was ruined by his red cheeks as he stated firmly, “Help me in applying the salve! It will heal the remaining sores.”</p><p>With that, he turned around and marched back to his room, leaving a bemused Helena behind. She glanced at John for help, who shrugged. Cursing the two men, she followed the ‘man-child’ at a much more sedated pace.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>EN: Helena visited Fred Weasley who is buried outside Shell Cottage.</p><p>Also, please do let me know how Sherlock and Helena’s relationship is coming along? I am trying to keep in character… somewhat, but I’m not sure how successful I am. How do you think the pace of their relationship is? Too fast? Too slow?</p><p>Your views and opinions would be greatly appreciated. Positive Criticism is always appreciated unless it is rude or insulting. Have a nice day everyone.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>AN: Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter or Sherlock. They belong to their respective authors and writers. This is written for purely entertainment and no money is being made.</p><p>Disclaimer: Almost everything about Johannes Vermeer and his family is fabricated for this story and does not concern any living or the dead.</p><p>I would like to apologize for any mistakes in advance as I do not have a beta. Please do not copy this story anywhere.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Next Day, Early Morning</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">221B</span> </strong>
</p><p>Helena was sitting on Sherlock’s black chair, while John was teaching her the basic functions of a laptop when Sherlock entered in a swirl of a green gown and stopped short. His eyes narrowed at the two and he asked bemused, “You don’t know how to use a computer?”</p><p>She didn’t look up, too immersed in learning more about the wonders of ‘internet’ and mumbled, “Magic doesn’t go well with electronics.”</p><p>“How do you do the paperwork then?” he asked incredulously.</p><p>“Books, parchment paper and quills.” She uttered.</p><p>Even John blinked and asked curiously, “How do you message each other in case of emergency?”</p><p>“Owls.” Was the short reply.</p><p>John looked at Sherlock, who was staring at her truly aghast and snarked, “What is this? The Victorian era?”</p><p>Her lips thinned as she looked up him before turned to look at John, who too, was judging her by the looks of it. Though his expressions turned neutral and he gave her an awkward smile, she knew. Huffing, she pulled out her wand and closed her eyes. Thinking of the happiest memory she had, she said clearly, “Expecto Patronum!”</p><p>And out burst her blinding, dazzling, silver stag. It galloped around the room silently, across Sherlock and John, who were staring at it with wide-eyed awe. It turned back towards her, nuzzling its head under her hand affectionately before vanishing.</p><p>“That’s how we used to communicate during the war. It can take messages and only reveals it to the one it is meant for.” She told them smugly.</p><p>“Brilliant!” John stated, at the same time Sherlock asked, “What was that?”</p><p>“A Patronus – it’s the purest form of magic and is only produced if you have happiness and hope. A wizard or a witch of the impure heart cannot produce a Patronus. It is also the only spell effective against Dementors.” She informed them.</p><p>“Dementors?” John asked curiously, eager to learn more about her world.</p><p>“Dark creatures that consume human happiness, creating an ambience of coldness, darkness, misery and despair. Because of their power to drain happiness and hope from humans, they have been set the duty of being guards at Azkaban, the wizarding prison, where they prevent the prisoners from having the will or ability to escape.”</p><p>John shivered; Sherlock observed her. He had already read about it in the book she had given him, but now he knew that she had faced dementors herself.</p><p>Needless to say, they didn’t judge her for not having much knowledge about electronics anymore.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">2 Hours Later</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Close to the River</span> </strong>
</p><p>“Ah, good. You’re here.” Sherlock said as soon as he saw her. “We’ve got another one.”</p><p>She gave Greg a smile, who smiled back before asking, “The bomber?”</p><p>Sherlock gave her a nod as they walked towards the open space where the car was found and noticed that the forensics officers were already working on it.</p><p>“The car was hired yesterday morning by an Ian Monkford. Banker of some kind; City boy. Paid in cash.” Lestrade consulted some notes and added, “Told his wife he was going away on a business trip, but he never arrived.”</p><p>They passed a woman talking with a female police officer, just as they reach the car and Sherlock looked inside the passenger door; while Donovan turned to John and stated, “You're still hanging round the freak.”</p><p>“Yeah, well...” John said, clearly uninterested.</p><p>“Opposites attract, I suppose.” She said tauntingly.</p><p>“No, we're not...” John started but was cut off as the woman continued, “You should get yourself a hobby – stamps, maybe. Model trains. Safer.”</p><p>“Sergeant Donavan,” Helena said, moving to stand beside John, who gave her a thankful smile.</p><p>“It’s you,” Sally stated, surprised and none too happy to see her.</p><p>“Still giving unwarranted advice, I see,” Helena said with a fake smile.</p><p>Lips pinched, Sally asked, “Are you taking over the case?”</p><p>“Not here to make your work easy, Sergeant,” Helena replied sardonically.</p><p>Sally’s eyes narrowed and she frowned. “Why are you here then?”</p><p>Done with the inspection, Sherlock walked towards them and said, “She’s with me.”</p><p>“With you?!” Sally burst out, astounded.</p><p>“A colleague of Sherlock’s?” someone called and they turned to see Anderson walking towards them.</p><p>His eyes roamed over her body lecherously, apparently not as stealthy as he thought himself to be. He did not notice how Helena shudder with disgust or the death glare which was thrown his way by both Sally and Sherlock.</p><p>“His friend, actually.” she said, rolling her eyes at the same time Sherlock snapped, “None of your business, Anderson.”</p><p>Anderson faltered for a bit, looking between the two, but shrugged his worries and said with a smile, “A pleasure to meet you.”</p><p>“I wish I could say the same,” Helena replied, sounding bored, shoving her hands in the pockets of her coat.</p><p>Startling them all, Sherlock stepped in front of Helena, hiding her from Anderson’s view and yelled, “Turn around and at least, pretend to do something, Anderson!”</p><p>Shaking his head, John turned around, while Helena scowled.</p><p>“You’ve already contaminated the crime with your presence. If you’re done with your stupid tricks, why don’t you leave?” Anderson said, glaring at the man.</p><p>“Your wife is back. Working overtime, are we?” Sherlock asked snidely.</p><p>Anderson uttered angrily, “Now listen here, you psychopath…”</p><p>“Not this again!” Sherlock sighed with frustration.</p><p>“Hm… I had no idea psychopath’s solved crimes for a living! Good to know.” Helena said sarcastically.</p><p>Anderson opened his mouth to speak, but his face became pinched and his hand went to his stomach, looking like he was about to get sick. Sally frowned at him concerned as she took a step closer and even John turned to look when suddenly the man farted.</p><p>The four people standing in front of him wrinkled their noses as the man mumbled, “I – don’t feel good.”</p><p>He farted again and his face turned red with embarrassment. Sally took a step back when there was another loud fart and then another and another. Without a word, Anderson turned around and rushed where his car was. With a dirty look at Sherlock and Helena, Sally marched towards Lestrade furiously.</p><p>Now, Sherlock turned towards Helena and arched a brow questioningly.</p><p>“What?” she asked innocently.</p><p>Finally realising what had happened, John threw his hands up exasperatedly and Sherlock rolled his eyes, though it was clear by the grin on his face how much he enjoyed it.</p><p>“Come on.” He said and walked over to the woman, who was talking to the police officer.</p><p> “Mrs Monkford?” He said, making her turn to him tearfully.</p><p>“Yes.” She looked at him and sighed. “Sorry, but I've already spoken with two policemen.”</p><p>“No, we're not from the police, we're...” John said, but was cut off by Sherlock, who held his hand out and said tearfully, “Sherlock Holmes. Very old friend of your husband's we, um...” his voice quavered, the very picture of grief as he shook her hand. “...we grew up together.”</p><p>“I'm sorry, who? I don't think he ever mentioned you.” Both the lady and Sherlock fought back tears.</p><p>“Oh, he must have done. This is...this is horrible, isn't it?” He said shakily and a tear fell down his eye.</p><p>John looked towards Helena, trying somewhat unsuccessfully to keep his face neutral, but she wasn’t there.</p><p>“I mean, I just can't believe it. I only saw him the other day. Same old Ian – not a care in the world.” Sherlock smiled tearfully, though his eyes were looking around, most possibly trying to locate their missing friend. </p><p>“Sorry, but my husband has been depressed for months. Who are you?” The woman asked, clearly confused with the bullshit story.</p><p>Another tear fell as he asked, “Really strange that he hired a car. Why would he do that? It's a bit suspicious, isn't it?”</p><p>“No, it isn't. He forgot to renew the tax on the car, that's all.” The woman replied.</p><p>Shoving his gloved hands in his pockets, Sherlock said, “Oh, well, that was Ian! That was Ian all over!”</p><p>“No, it wasn't.” the woman stared at him and Sherlock dropped the ‘act’ before looking at her intensely, “Wasn't it? Interesting.”</p><p>With that, he walked away, leaving the woman to glare at him. John followed before asking, “Why did you lie to her?”</p><p>“People don't like telling you things, but they love to contradict you. Past tense, did you notice?” Sherlock replied, taking his gloves off to wipe the tears from under his eyes.</p><p>“Sorry, what?”</p><p>“I referred to her husband in the past tense. She joined in. Bit premature. They've only just found the car.” Sherlock said.</p><p>John raised his brows and asked disbelievingly, “You think she murdered her husband?”</p><p>“Definitely not. That's not a mistake a murderer would make.” Sherlock shook his head as he headed to the corner where he had seen Helena walking.</p><p>“Where did Helena go?” John asked, looking around with a frown, following Sherlock until the man stopped at a secluded spot a couple of meters away. There she was… kneeling in front of a huge snake and hissing something to it. They both stared gobsmacked as the snake stared back at her and nodded… or at least they thought it was a nod.</p><p>“Are you talking to a snake?!” John choked out with horror; Sherlock stared at her, clearly mystified.</p><p>Startled, her head snapped towards her, while the snake turned towards them and hissed. When Helena saw who it was, she took a relieved breath and said, “John! You scared her.”</p><p>“I scared her?!” John cried out incredulously. “Well, that’s a relief!”</p><p>Rolling her eyes, she looked around before discreetly taking her wand out and waved it in a circular motion. Out of nowhere, a couple of dead mice appeared in a nearby corner. The snake hissed something at Helena before it slithered past them.</p><p>She looked rather pleased with herself and Sherlock eyed her warily. He knew that look by now. It was something he had seen right before she had turned his ears pink! So, he asked curiously, “What are you planning?”</p><p>“She was hungry. We came to an arrangement.” Helena shrugged before walking back calmly towards the main road through the crime scene.</p><p>John looked at Sherlock, hoping to get some answers, but the man was staring at Helena transfixed.</p><p>Suddenly a scream permeated the air and the two of them rushed to see Sergeant Donavan lying on the ground and the snake literally on top of her. The two men gaped at the scene before turning to look at Helena, who smiled back innocently.</p><p>John crossed his arms and glared at her, so she said placatingly, “Don’t look at me like that! She won’t harm anyone! She’s not even venomous!”</p><p>“You bribed the snake to scare Sally.” Sherlock finally spoke.</p><p>Helena shuffled uncomfortably under the heavy gaze of her two friends until Sherlock remarked, “That was ingenious.”</p><p>Pleased, she beamed up at him and he smiled back.</p><p>A genuine and rare smile from the detective that John hadn’t seen before and he hung his head tiredly, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to deal with the two!</p><p>He didn’t think anyone could!</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Janus Cars</span> </strong>
</p><p>The three of them left Mr Ewert's office and headed back across the forecourt.</p><p>“I-I've got change if you still want to, uh...” John said, but Sherlock patted my upper arm. “Nicotine patches, remember? I'm doing well.”</p><p>John asked confused, “So, what was that all about?”</p><p>“I needed to look inside his wallet,” Sherlock stated.</p><p>Shaking his head, John asked, “Why?”</p><p>“Because Mr Ewert was lying,” Helena told John, earning a nod from Sherlock.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">221B</span> </strong>
</p><p>[Congratulations to Ian Monkford on his relocation to Columbia.]</p><p>Sherlock typed the message on his website before sending it. Within seconds, the pink phone rang, which was lying just beside the computer. He accepted the call and the young man spoke tearfully into the speaker, [He says you can come and fetch me. Help. Help me, please.]</p><p>He couldn’t help the smile that broke out as he looked up at John and Helena.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Later that Night</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">221C</span> </strong>
</p><p>Sherlock looked at his watch before knocking on the door. Now that the case was solved, for now, he was hungry. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate and it wasn’t 11 yet, so they could still go to the Chinese place nearby. John was finishing his work and would be down in the next 4 minutes.</p><p>Opening the door slightly, Helena peeked out, hiding the view of her apartment and said, “Now is not a good time, Sherlock.”</p><p>She was wearing a bathrobe and her long hair were unruly and wild, more than he had ever seen. Her lips were swollen and she was a little bit out of breath. There were two empty glasses of wine lying on the table.</p><p>His eyes narrowed as he asked, “Why?”</p><p>She blushed slightly before uttering, “Uh… I’m busy.”</p><p>He stared at her intently before taking a step closer, stepping right into her personal space. Towering over her, he stated, “You were about to indulge in intercourse.”</p><p>Wide green eyes met grey as she turned red. Sherlock didn’t miss the way her body flushed down to her sternum and he was surprised to figure out that the knowledge of her having sex with someone upset him.</p><p>“Let’s go, shall we?” Came John’s voice and Helena grimaced, but Sherlock kept glaring.</p><p>“Is everything all right?” Came another voice, this one from inside the apartment and Helena hung her head and opened the door finally. This wasn’t what she had planned for today! She had been about to get laid after years! Quite frankly, she didn’t want to indulge anyone right now. But she had never been lucky, had she?</p><p>Sherlock and John stared wide-eyed at Greg, who was standing behind her in nothing but his shorts.</p><p>Annoyed for some reason, he snapped indignantly, “Gavin?! You were about to have sex with Gavin? Couldn’t find anyone else?”</p><p>“Sherlock!” John yelled before looking at Helena and Greg apologetically.</p><p>“You don’t get a say in who I have sex with!” She shouted at Sherlock incredulously. “What’s your problem?!”</p><p>Surprising them all, Sherlock didn’t insult her like they had been expecting. Nor did he stomp back to his flat or outside for that matter. Instead, he straightened up to his full height and pushed the door open before stomping towards her bookshelf. Picking the first book he got his hands on, he threw himself on her sofa.</p><p>Shell-shocked, Greg, John and Helena gaped and it took them a few seconds to react.</p><p>John shook his head tiredly and muttered tiredly, “Sherlock!” as if that would’ve helped, while Helena yelled, “Fucking Hell, Sherlock! Get out!”</p><p>Of course, the man didn’t reply but hid his face in the book as he made himself comfortable.</p><p>Gritting her teeth, she said, “You know what? Fine! We can go to Greg’s place.”</p><p>“No, you can’t. His sister is in town for a week and is living on his sofa.” Sherlock told her smugly.</p><p>She looked at Greg for confirmation, who nodded apologetically and she closed her eyes, feeling like she might just end up killing Sherlock if she stayed here any longer. Picking up her broomstick from the corner, she hit Sherlock on the head on her way, earning a yelp from the detective. Sherlock didn’t look away from the book as she marched back to her room and slammed the door behind her with a loud bang.</p><p>Baffled, Greg stared at the scene in front of his before sharing a look with John, which spoke volumes.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Next Day</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">221B</span> </strong>
</p><p>“AAHHHHHH…….!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”</p><p>A piercing scream erupted in 221B, startling its residents. John rushed to the kitchen, gun in hand when he noticed his flatmate's red face, which was turning purple steadily and blinked at the scene in front of him. On Sherlock’s work station, was a card which looked like it had been burning seconds ago. Steady smoke was rising from it and he frowned at it before turning to look at Sherlock who had rushed to the windows and was opening them all hurriedly. His face was pinched and he looked ready to puke.</p><p>“Er… what’s happening?” he asked confused.</p><p>“The smell, John!” Came a muffled reply as the man covered his face with his scarf.</p><p>John sniffed the air, but couldn’t smell out of ordinary. “What smell?”</p><p>Sherlock whirled, ready to tell about the rancid smell all over the apartment when his eyes widened and he screamed even louder.</p><p>“HELENA….!!!!!!!!!!”</p><hr/><p>In 221C, Helena smirked satisfied.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Next Morning</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Cafe</span> </strong>
</p><p> Helena, John and Sherlock were in a nearby café. John was having proper breakfast, while Helena was tucking into her sandwich before she had to rush to office. Sherlock was scowling at her or maybe he was pouting, she wasn’t sure.</p><p>Finally giving in, Sherlock lowered his head to look at her through his lashes and mumbled, “Please.”</p><p>“No.” She replied simply; there was no negotiation in her voice.</p><p>Rather put out, he stated, “No? What do you mean no? I said please!”</p><p>“Not the word I want to hear.” She cut in, taking another bite of her breakfast sandwich.</p><p>“It’s nauseating! I can’t even step inside my flat anymore!” He cried out incredulously.</p><p>“I can’t smell anything,” John informed unnecessarily.</p><p>Sherlock threw a glare his way, while Helena turned to John and responded in a conceited way, “That’s because the card is meant specially for Sherlock.”</p><p>“It’s a health hazard! I could get sick!” Sherlock shrieked.</p><p>“No, you won’t. It’s not real. That’s why no one apart from you can smell it.” She informed, much to John’s amusement as he listened to them bickering again.</p><p>At his wit's end and unable to control himself, Sherlock demanded, “How do I remove it?”</p><p>“You can’t.” She told him with a fake smile that could’ve rivalled his as she took another sip of her tea.</p><p>Sherlock stared; mouth agape, actually stunned speechless by her insolence. John couldn’t help himself and pulled out his phone before clicking Sherlock’s picture hurriedly, who snapped his heads towards John and glared. John thought he looked too much like a kicked puppy until the man sneered, “Feeling better?”</p><p>“Yeah. Loads. Thank you for asking.” John replied with a smile and went back to his breakfast, making Helena chuckle; Sherlock pouted, finally concluding that arguing was a waste of his time as he wasn’t about to get his way and stared intently at the pink phone, which was lying on the table.</p><p>“Mmm. You realize we've hardly stopped for breath since this thing started.” John mused, eating another forkful before looking at Sherlock thoughtfully. “Has it occurred to you...?”</p><p>“Probably.” Sherlock cut in.</p><p>John didn’t even bother to huff as he said, “No, has it occurred to you that the bomber's playing a game with you? The envelope; breaking into Helena’s flat; the dead kid's shoes – it's all meant for you.”</p><p>“Yes, I know.” Sherlock smiled, looking rather proud and Helena rolled her eyes because he would be the only one finding ‘excitement’ in such a situation.</p><p>“Is it him, then? Moriarty?” John asked.</p><p>Sherlock turned his eyes away and replied, “Perhaps.”</p><p>The pink phone beeped with a message alert and Sherlock turned it so both Helena and John could see before switching it on. There was a photograph of a smiling middle-aged woman on the screen and he shook his head confused. “That could be anybody.”</p><p>Helena too was confused when John said, “It could be, yeah. Lucky for you, I've been more than a little unemployed.”</p><p>Sherlock looked at him and asked, “How d'you mean?”</p><p>“Lucky for you, Mrs Hudson and I watch far too much telly.” With that, he walked over to the counter, pick up the remote and turn on the television hanging on the wall. He switched channels a couple of times until the woman from the photograph pop on the screen.</p><p>Just on cue, the pink phone rang and Sherlock picked it up and answered, [Hello?]</p><p>Helena leaned forward, casting a light charm to hear what was being said on the other side.</p><p>[This one...  is a bit...  defective. Sorry.] An old woman speaks tremulously. [She's blind. This is... a funny one.] Helena looked appalled as John walked back to the table. [I'll give you...  twelve hours.]</p><p>Sherlock looked at Helena and asked the bomber, [Why are you doing this?]</p><p>[I like...  to watch you... dance.] The woman gasped before the line went dead.</p><p>Lowering the phone, Sherlock shook his head, clearly irritated and dropped the phone onto the table before turning to look at the telly.</p><p>As the footage of the woman continues playing along with the headline – <span class="u">‘Make-over Queen Connie Prince dead at 48.’</span></p><p>And a reporter’s voice takes over, “... continuing onto the sudden death of the popular TV personality, Connie Prince. Miss. Prince, famous for her make-over programmes, was found dead two days ago by her brother in the house they shared in Hampstead...”</p><p>With a tired sigh, Helena started rummaging through her small purse; Sherlock and John gaped as her whole hand vanished inside it.</p><p>“Ah-ha!” She said triumphantly and pulled a coin out before handing it to John and said, “Here. In case you’re in danger, just hold it in your hand. It’ll grow hot and I can be there in a jiffy.”</p><p>“Is this real gold?” John asked awed, staring at the coin in his hand. Even Sherlock leaned over the table to peek at the coin curiously.</p><p>“It’s a Galleon – wizarding currency. Electronics don’t work in the ministry, so we had to find something else, something discreet.” She told them.</p><p>Bewildered, John asked, “You have your own money?”</p><p>“Of course. We have banks, shops, schools, jobs… and for that you need money. And seeing that purebloods hate muggles or anything related to them, they wouldn’t use the muggle money or shops or banks.” She said before musing, “Anyway, how exactly do you think people would react kindly if a goblin starts managing their finances?”</p><p>“Goblins?” he questioned.</p><p>“They run Gringotts, the wizarding bank. Extremely clever, not the friendliest of beasts and can use magic without the aid of a wand. We co-exist, but they don’t like humans in general – wizards or mu… normal people.” She said before adding as an afterthought, “Well, they hate me, Hermione and Ron in particular. They banned us from entering Gringotts for about 10 years. Just got our ‘privileges’ back.”</p><p>“Why?” John and Sherlock asked simultaneously.</p><p>“Er… we broke into Gringotts when we were 16 and then we stole their dragon.” She told them sheepishly.</p><p>Gobsmacked.</p><p>There was no other way to describe the look on their faces as they gaped at her, doing a marvellous impression of ‘a fish that had been thrown out of water.’</p><p>“Dragons!?” John finally managed.</p><p>“Oh, yeah. Just as dangerous as they show in telly. Ron’s brother is a dragon tamer in a dragon reserve in Romania.” She informed offhandedly, eying Sherlock warily as the man’s eyes were now shining in a way that brought no good.</p><p>And true to words, he stared at her intently before asking, “How do I get one?”</p><p>“What?” John snapped at the same time Helena said primly, “They’re not pets! You’ll be ash before you know it.”</p><p>Sherlock glared and she arched an eyebrow before relenting, for now, and asked, “How come John gets the coin and I don’t?”</p><p>Betrayal laced his tone and the look on his face made Helena feel like a parent who had forgotten to buy a present for the younger child out of the two siblings. Huffing to herself, she replied, “That’s because John will use it only if there’s an emergency… unlike someone, who gets too tardy to move his hand and pick a piece of paper, which by the way, was right in front of them!”</p><p>“It was one time!” he reminded her with a mild glare.</p><p>“17 messages within 25 minutes stating that it was a life or death matter!” she cried out incredulously.</p><p>“It was an important paper!” he said petulantly.</p><p>“GUYS!” John shouted suddenly, “Remember that we only have 12 hours to save the woman.”</p><p>Sherlock picked the phone and stood up, ready to leave for Barts and Helena looked at John sheepishly.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Later that Night</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Scotland Yard</span> </strong>
</p><p>“What took you so long?” Sherlock snapped impatiently as soon as he saw Helena before turning around and stalking towards the main office. She huffed but followed him inside along with John to Greg’s office already regretting her decision to come here after Sherlock’s message.</p><p>He brandished a folder towards Greg as soon as he entered and said, “Raoul de Santos is your killer. Kenny Prince's houseboy. Second autopsy shows it wasn't tetanus that poisoned Connie Prince – it was botulinum toxin.”  He dropped the folder in front of Lestrade, who picked it up as Sherlock leaned closer to him and added, “We've been here before. Carl Powers? Tut-tut. Our bomber's repeated himself.”</p><p>Helena looked at Greg, feeling increasingly awkward after their lase debacle when their eyes met. In turn, he looked just the same, if not a bit more. Sherlock scowled at him as the DI walked towards his office and the three followed.</p><p>“So how'd he do it?” John asked.</p><p>“Botox injection,” Sherlock replied.</p><p>“Botox?” Lestrade asked confused, making Helena feel a bit better because everything that was being said was flying over her head. <em>‘Why was she here again?’</em></p><p>“Botox is a diluted form of botulinum. Among other things, Raoul de Santos was employed to give Connie her regular facial injections. My contact at the Home Office gave me the complete records of Raoul's internet purchases.” Sherlock fired before pointing to the folder. “He's been bulk-ordering Botox for months.”</p><p>Helena noticed how John stared at Sherlock perplexed, his expression becoming furious by the second as Sherlock finished, “Bided his time, then upped the strength to a fatal dose.”</p><p>“You sure about this?” Lestrade asked.</p><p>Sherlock replied, “I'm sure.”</p><p>“All right, my office,” Lestrade said as he cast a not-so-discreet look at Helena before turning around and walking towards his office.</p><p>Sherlock turned to follow but was stopped by John, who was trying to keep his anger down. “Hey, Sherlock, how long?” he asked.</p><p>Helena looked between the two but decided against saying anything. She was out of the loop as it is.</p><p>Sherlock asked, “What?”</p><p>“How long have you known?” John asked.</p><p>“Well, this one was quite simple, actually, and like I said, the bomber repeated himself. That was a mistake.” Sherlock explained and turned to walk towards Lestrade's office but John stopped him again. “No, but Sherlock, the hostage... the old woman, she's been there all this time!”</p><p>“I knew I could save her. I also knew that the bomber had given us twelve hours. I solved the case quickly; that gave me time to get on with other things. Don't you see? We're one up on him!” Sherlock stated as he stared at John intensely before heading inside Lestrade's office.</p><p>Irked, John pursed his lips and looked at Helena before shaking his head and the two followed.</p><p>Sherlock settled himself on the desk and was on his laptop, so Helena walked over and stood beside his chair. She saw him opening his website before he typed – [Raoul de Santos, the house-boy, Botox.]</p><p>As soon as he sent the message, the pink phone rang and he picked it up before answering, [Hello?]</p><p>[Help me.] The old woman said slowly in a thick voice.</p><p>She had been crying or was in pain as Sherlock asked, [Tell us where you are. Address.]</p><p>[He was so... His voice...] The woman started but was interrupted as Sherlock uttered urgently, [No, no, no, no. Tell me nothing about him. Nothing.]</p><p>[He sounded so... soft.] The woman whispered just as a single shot was fired and the phone went dead instantly.</p><p>Helena stared at the phone with utter disbelief. Not that she should be surprised, the woman was describing the bomber, so it would perceptibly be his next move, but still, she swallowed as she stared at Sherlock.</p><p>His eyes had widened when the shot rang, but he still tried and spoke into the phone, [Hello?]</p><p>“Sherlock?” Lestrade asked as he leaned down to look at the man.</p><p>Obviously, there was no reply, so he brought the phone away from his ear and stared at it, clearly upset.</p><p>“What’s happened?” John asked but Sherlock bit his lower lip, trying to reign in his emotions and stared ahead blankly.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Next Morning</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">221B</span> </strong>
</p><p>John and Sherlock were sitting in their armchairs, while Helena was leaning against the study table, watching the news on the TV. She had repaired the windows and banished the dung bomb. The pink phone was sitting on the arm of Sherlock’s chair as on telly, the reporter spoke, “The explosion, which ripped through several floors, killing twelve people...”</p><p>John glanced over his shoulder to Sherlock briefly before muttering, “Old block of flats. He certainly gets about.”</p><p>“Well, obviously I lost that round. Although technically, I did solve the case.” Sherlock stated as he picked the remote control and lowered the volume.</p><p>“He killed the old lady because she started to describe him,” Helena uttered and Sherlock nodded. “Just once, he put himself in the firing line.”</p><p>John turned around and looked at the two before asking, “What do you mean?”</p><p>“Well, usually, he must stay above it all. He organizes these things but no-one ever has direct contact.” Sherlock said.</p><p>“What... like the Connie Prince murder, he-he arranged that? So, people come to him wanting their crimes fixed up, like booking a holiday?” John asked sardonically.</p><p>“Novel,” Sherlock mumbled softly, appreciatively.</p><p>John looked at him before his eyes met Helena’s with disbelief before he turned back to the TV.</p><p>Sherlock looked at the pink phone and muttered, “Taking his time this time.”</p><p>John cleared his throat uncomfortably and asked, “Anything on the Carl Powers case?”</p><p>“Nothing. All the living classmate check out spotless. No connection.” Sherlock told him.</p><p>“Maybe the killer was older than Carl?” John said with a bit of hesitation.</p><p>“The thought had occurred,” Sherlock said.</p><p>“So, why's he doing this, then? Playing this game with you? Do you think he wants to be caught?” John asked frustrated.</p><p>Sherlock pressed his fingertips together in front of my mouth and mumbled with a slight smile, “I think he wants to be distracted.”</p><p>John shook his head and chuckled humourlessly before standing up and heading towards the kitchen. He muttered, “I hope you'll be very happy together.”</p><p>“Sorry, what?” Sherlock asked confused, making John turn and he yelled furiously, “There are lives at stake, Sherlock. Actual human lives. Just so I know, do you care about that at all?”</p><p>“Will caring about them help save them?” Sherlock asked crossly.</p><p>John leaned his hands on the back of his chair and shook his head. “Nope.”</p><p>“Then I'll continue not to make that mistake.” Sherlock snapped disdainfully.</p><p>As the two argued, Helena frowned, deep in thought. She remembered Sherlock being over-emotional. He had fought with Dudley because of her; he used to sneak her food because he knew she would be hungry; she remembered him being in awe of whatever ‘Mike’ did; him being overly upset because she hadn’t met him at the park like they usually did, but later, when he realised that she had been hurt, he had refused to let her leave and had thrown a fit right in front of his parents!</p><p>Something must’ve happened that the boy she knew changed himself to an extent that he turned into a sociopath – someone who is unable to understand feelings. Such people make impulsive decisions without feeling guilty for the harm they cause.</p><p>And she knew without a doubt that he was not a sociopath, but she also knew that this Sherlock was indeed unable to understand emotions and sentiments on a basic level. Suddenly realisation hit Helena like a punch in the face. So, this is what Mycroft meant when he said that <em>‘Sherlock was different.</em>’ He didn’t have a single friend until he met her again. He had been alone all these years. No one possibly understood him, so he decided that being like this was the better option. He locked the part that made him vulnerable, so he wouldn’t get hurt.</p><p>This was why he wasn’t able to grasp feelings as easily as others did, especially if they were the ones that didn’t concern him. She could bet on her vault that if John or she died, Sherlock would feel… though to what extent, she didn’t know… and maybe this was why it had been easy for him to forget her even though they had been best friends for 4 years. His flippant comment about the ‘corpses’, made more sense now. He had been a tad bit guilty, even if he wasn’t able to apologise. Or the way he had shifted to ‘hey’ from ‘gay’ in front of Molly the other day, possibly to spare them the embarrassment.</p><p>Yesterday, he hadn’t been entirely unaffected as he liked to pretend. She had seen his face… noticed the exact moment when he felt unsettled when the woman was shot, even if was for a moment. He wasn’t condescending anyone on purpose, he possibly didn’t even realise that what he was doing was taken disrespectfully. With this new realisation, Helena found it easier to accept him just the way he was.</p><p>“And you find that easy, do you?” John asked the smile on his face was frozen.</p><p>Shooting him a narrow glance, he asked blatantly, “Yes, very. Is that news to you?”</p><p>“No. No.” John smiled bitterly as he shook his head once.</p><p>Sherlock looked at Helena, who was standing there with an unreadable expression on her face. He frowned before turning back to John and studied him for a moment before concluding, “I've disappointed you.”</p><p>“That's good, that's a good deduction, yeah.” He smiled angrily now.</p><p>“Don't make people into heroes, John. Heroes don't exist, and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them.” Sherlock stated calmly as if explaining a theory.</p><p>Shaking his head, John went to the kitchen and Sherlock turned to look at her and asked loftily, “Have I disappointed you too?</p><p>His tone was mocking, but Helena saw that it mattered to him… maybe not much, but enough that he asked it aloud. So, she replied truthfully, “Surprisingly, no. There was nothing more you could’ve done.”</p><p>Caught off-guard, he stared at her nonplussed. He didn’t know how to respond to that, when she added softly, “Heroes do exist, you know. They’re just different for every person. You might not think so, but you certainly could be the hero for the people you’ve saved until now.”</p><p>Befuddled, he stared at her, loss at words when the pink phone rang, alerting them of a text.</p><p>“Excellent!” He whispered before picking up the phone. Another photograph of a riverbank, Sherlock recognised immediately, “View of the Thames. South Bank, somewhere between Southwark Bridge and Waterloo.” He reached inside his jacket to pull his phone out and said to John, “You check the papers; I'll look online...”</p><p>As he looked up, he noticed John standing with his head hanging low and hands braced on his chair.</p><p>“Oh, you're angry with me, so you won't help,” Sherlock stated and John shrugged. “Not much cop, this caring lark.”</p><p>John stared as Sherlock begin searching on his phone before looking at Helena helplessly, who gave him a sympathetic smile. She saw amused as John sniffed, while Sherlock continued his search, and walked over to the sofa to search through the pile of newspapers lying on the table.</p><p>“Well, I’ll leave you to it then.” She said, already moving towards the stairs.</p><p>“It’s your day off. You’re coming along.” Sherlock stated, even though he didn’t look up from his phone.</p><p>She didn’t bother correcting him that technically, it wasn’t her day off. She just needed some time before she had to go and round up all the wolves in Greyback’s pack. Instead, she spoke indignantly, “But I’ve been utterly useless until now! I don’t even understand half the things you say! Like that – that…. Botox thing! I had to ask John what it was!”</p><p>“You’re a witch who grew up in a different world. It’s quite obvious you wouldn’t know about things that don’t concern you.” He said as if she was a dunce. "Now, don’t pretend to be an idiot.”</p><p>John stared amazed and slightly shocked at the words that Sherlock sprouted, feeling as if he had somehow stepped into a parallel universe where the detective refrained himself from directly insulting people.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Thames</span> </strong>
</p><p>“Do you reckon this is connected, then? The bomber?” Lestrade asked as Sherlock pulled a pair of latex gloves on and walked closer to the body.</p><p>John and Helena stood beside the body as Sherlock held the pink phone up and said, “Must be. Odd, though, he hasn't been in touch.”</p><p>“Then we must assume that some poor bugger's primed to explode, yeah?” Lestrade said tiredly.</p><p>“Yes,” Sherlock stated before stepping back and observing the body.</p><p>Lestrade asked, “Any ideas?”</p><p>Sherlock cocked his head to the side and replied, “Seven... so far.”</p><p>“Seven?” Lestrade repeated puzzled.</p><p>Walking closer to the body, Sherlock squatted down and started examining the body with his magnifier. He looked at the ripped pocket on the shirt before making his way towards the man's feet. He pulled one of the socks off and examined the sole of the feet before standing up. Then, he jerked his head, silently ordering John to examine the body. John looked at Lestrade enquiringly, asking for permission, who held his hand out in a ‘be my guest’ gesture. Squatting down beside the body, John took hold of the man's wrist as Sherlock walked a few steps back and pulled his phone out.</p><p>“He's dead about 24 hours. Maybe a bit longer.” John looked up at Lestrade and asked, “Did he drown?”</p><p>“Apparently not. Not enough of the Thames in his lungs. Asphyxiated.” Lestrade replied as Sherlock searched something on his phone.</p><p>“Yes. I agree.” John said before pointing towards the red marks on the man’s face. “There's quite a bit of bruising around the nose and mouth. More bruises… here and here.”</p><p>“Fingertips.” Sherlock muttered thoughtfully, just as John stood up and said, “In his late thirties, I'd say. Not in the best condition.”</p><p>“He's been in the river a long while. The water's destroyed most of the data.” Sherlock quirked a grin and declared, “But I'll tell you one thing, that lost Vermeer painting's a fake.”</p><p>Helena looked at him and asked confused, “What?”</p><p>“The lost Vermeer painting is fake.” Sherlock replied before stating, “We need to identify the corpse. Find out about his friends and associates…”</p><p>“Wait-wait-wait-wait-wait. What painting? What are you – what are you on about?” Lestrade rambled.</p><p>Sherlock’s eyes screamed <em>‘you idiot’</em> as he asked, “It's all over the place. Haven’t you seen the posters? Dutch Old Master, supposed to have been destroyed centuries ago; now it's turned up. Worth thirty million pounds.”</p><p>Helena shook her head and clarified, “You mean Johannes Vermeer? The Dutch artist?”</p><p>“Yes.” Sherlock replied shortly as he eyed her cynically and asked, “Why?”</p><p>“Oh.” Sherlock noticed how her eyes darted towards Gavin before meeting his and she muttered, “Well, he’s quite famous.”</p><p>Sherlock stared back at her, resisting the urge to shake her. She couldn’t even lie to save herself. <em>‘How could someone like her be utter shite when it comes to something as </em><em>meagre</em> <em>as lying?’</em></p><p>“Ok.” Lestrade spoke before asking Sherlock, “So, what has the painting got to do with the stiff?”</p><p>Turning back to Lestrade, Sherlock grinned and said, “Everything. Have you ever heard of the Golem?”</p><p>“Golem?” Helena and Lestrade asked simultaneously.</p><p>John looked confused as he asked, “It's a horror story, isn't it? What are you saying?”</p><p>“Jewish folk story. A gigantic man, made of clay – it's also the name of an assassin. Real name Oskar Dzundza. One of the deadliest assassins in the world.” Sherlock told them before pointing towards the body. “That is his trademark style.”</p><p>“So this is a hit?” Lestrade asked.</p><p>“Definitely. The Golem squeezes the life out of his victims with his bare hands.” Sherlock explained.</p><p>Still confused and frustrated, Lestrade asked, “But what has this gotta do with that painting? I don't see...”</p><p>“You do see, you just don't observe,” Sherlock stated annoyed.</p><p>“Yes. All right, all right, girls! Calm down.” John interrupted, making Helena grin briefly and asked, “Sherlock, do you want to take us through it?”</p><p>Sighing, Sherlock took a step back before explaining, “What do we know about this corpse? The killer's not left us with much, just the shirt and the trousers. They're pretty formal, maybe he was going out for the night. But the trousers are heavy-duty, polyester, nasty, same as the shirt, cheap. They're both too big for him, so some kind of standard-issue uniform. Dressed for work, then. There's a hook on his belt for a walkie-talkie.”</p><p>“Tube driver?” Lestrade asked.</p><p>“Oh, for Merlin’s sake!” Helena snapped exasperatedly. “He was a security guard working for an art museum where the Vermeer painting was kept. And he was killed because he realised that it was a fake!”</p><p>Sherlock looked rather put out and he threw a dark glare her way, while John and Lestrade stared open-mouthed before the latter asked, “How in the world could you possibly know that?”</p><p>Just as she opened her mouth to reply, Sherlock jumped and slapped his hand over her mouth before she could spoil it further and said hurriedly, “The soles of his feet and the nascent varicose veins in his legs show otherwise. So, a lot of walking and a lot of sitting around. Security guard's looking good. And the watch helps, too. The buttons of the alarm are stiff, hardly touched. He set his alarm like that a long time ago. His routine never varied which shows he did regular night shifts.”</p><p>Suddenly, he pulled his hand away from her mouth with a squawk, only now noticing that she was scowling at him. Stupefied, he stared at her and said indignantly, “You licked me.”</p><p>Crossing her arms across her chest, she asked sweetly, “Would you’ve preferred if I’d bitten instead?”</p><p>“I’ll stick with the licking, thanks.” He mumbled with a pout before turning to look at Lestrade and John, who were staring at them with morbid fascination.</p><p>He raised an eyebrow and Lestrade blinked before stumbling for words as he said, “Er… you were saying?”</p><p>“Yes. The killer must have been interrupted, otherwise, he would have stripped the corpse completely. There was some kind of badge or insignia on the shirt front that he tore off, suggesting the dead man worked somewhere recognizable, some kind of institution.” Sherlock took out a small scrunched-up ball of paper from his pocket and said, “Found this inside his trouser pockets. Sodden by the river but still recognizably...”</p><p>“Tickets?” John asked peering at the ball of paper.</p><p>Helena stayed quiet this time and let him have his ‘moment of glory.’</p><p>“Ticket stubs. Did a quick check. The Hickman Gallery has reported one of its attendants as missing.” He pointed down to the body and said, “Alex Woodbridge. Tonight, they unveil the re-discovered masterpiece. Now, why would anyone want to pay the Golem to suffocate a perfectly ordinary gallery attendant? Inference, the dead man knew something about it – something that would stop the owner getting paid thirty million pounds. The picture's a fake.”</p><p>“Fantastic,” John said admiringly.</p><p>“Meretricious.” Sherlock corrected.</p><p>“And a Happy New Year!” Lestrade threw in.</p><p>John threw him a look before turning to Helena and asked, “How did you get that? You didn’t even look at the body closely.”</p><p>“Uh… Well, the man undoubtedly was a security guard. Sherlock said that the painting being displayed is fake and the assassin was hired to kill the man. It seems the only plausible explanation.” She shrugged, uncomfortable by the way these three men were staring at her.</p><p>Shaking his head, John looked down at the body again and muttered, “Poor sod.”</p><p>Lestrade looked over to Helena before turning to Sherlock and said, “I'd better get my feelers out for this Golem character.”</p><p>“Pointless. You'll never find him. But I know a man who can.” Sherlock told him.</p><p>“Who?” asked Lestrade.</p><p>“Obviously, him.” Helena mumbled at the same time Sherlock said with a smirk, “Me.”</p><p>“Come on.” With that, Sherlock took her by the elbow and dragged her along.</p><p>Lestrade looked at John, who huffed before following the two.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Taxi</span> </strong>
</p><p>“What?” Helena asked when she noticed Sherlock staring at her continuously.</p><p>“So? How do you know about Vermeer?” he asked as John looked between the two confused.</p><p>Helena sighed because nothing escaped the man, did it? She waved her wand discreetly in the direction of the cabbie and cast a silencing charm.</p><p>“Johannes Vermeer married Catharina Bones – a pureblood. He was a muggle. They are considered third-class citizens even now, so imagine what it must’ve been like for them in the 17<sup>th</sup> century. Anyway, he wasn’t accepted by her family so they ran away. They were married for nearly 20 years before their family found them and they were killed for shaming the family. It was quite a debacle.”</p><p>John stared astounded and burst out, “That’s the most stupid thing I’ve ever heard!”</p><p>Helena winced. “Well, it’s not uncommon in the wizarding world. Andromeda, Teddy’s grandmother was disowned by her family for marrying a muggle-born. Teddy’s father, Remus Lupin, was the most kind-hearted man I’ve ever met. He taught me how to cast a Patronus. He faced prejudice all his life because he was a werewolf, bitten by Greyback when he was 4.”</p><p>“Wow.” John breathed, unable to say anything.</p><p>“Yeah,” she mumbled with a humourless smile.</p><p>“How do you know about Vermeer’s family history?” Sherlock asked, partly because he was curious, but partly because he was sure some pieces of history might be fragmented if they were written by the said family.</p><p>“Susan Bones, a friend is the descendant of one of their children – Ignatius Vermeer. He was a wizard and later his son changed his name to Ignatius Bones.” She replied before adding as an afterthought, “And his daughter, Cornelia, died not long ago.”</p><p>“His daughter?!” John gasped wide-eyed. “She would be, what? Almost 300?”</p><p>Sherlock leaned closer to hear more. It was all very fascinating.</p><p>“I think she was born sometime in 1708, so that would make her 293 years old.” Helena mused.</p><p>“How is it even possible?!” John choked out.</p><p>“Wizards and witches have a long-life span. The oldest wizards known are Nicolas Flamel and his wife Perenelle Flamel.”</p><p>Sherlock straightened up in his seat and stated, “The French scribe and manuscript-seller? An alchemist believed to have discovered the philosopher's stone and thereby achieved immortality, but he died in 1418 and his wife Perenelle in 1397.”</p><p>“What?” John looked confused as ever.</p><p>She nodded and said, “Some of the facts are true, but they couldn’t very well let muggles know about the philosopher's stone now, could they? They were born sometime in early 1300’s and were killed by Voldemort in 1995.”</p><p>“Because of the philosopher's stone.” He realised and his eyes shined before he asked exuberantly, “Is it real?”</p><p>“Wait, what is the philosopher's stone?” John asked again.</p><p>“Alchemists believed that an elixir of life could be derived from it. But there is no proof.” Sherlock fired before asking again, “So? Is it?”</p><p>She gave a curt nod and replied slowly, “It’s legendary for its magical properties. It’s a stone which can be used to create the Elixir of Life, making the drinker immortal, as well as transform any metal into pure gold.”</p><p>“The book. Do you have it?” he asked suddenly.</p><p>“I don’t know?” She shrugged. “Hermione read about it in our 1<sup>st</sup> year at Hogwarts.”</p><p>He stared at her intently as if deducing something before nodding to himself. There was silence for a couple of seconds before Sherlock looked at the pink phone with frustration and mumbled, “Why hasn't he phoned? He's broken his pattern. Why?”</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Hickman Gallery</span> </strong>
</p><p> Sherlock and Helena step out of the taxi, but John was stopped by Sherlock, who said, “No. I need you to find out all you can about the gallery attendant. Lestrade will give you the address.”</p><p>“Okay.” John nodded before closing the door and gave new instructions to the driver.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Hickman Gallery</span> </strong>
</p><p>They were staring at a small but beautiful painting of the city of Delft by night, under a star-filled sky - The lost Vermeer!</p><p>“Wow… its…” Helena stopped, searching for words as she stared at the painting. Beside her, Sherlock nodded.</p><p>“Hermione would know what’s wrong with it.” She muttered without thought, only realising what she had said when there was no reply from her companion. She turned her head to peer up at him and yup – he was glowering at her.</p><p>“We had astronomy and she did top the class!” She amended hastily before adding, “And let’s be honest, you don’t know much about it.”</p><p>“I deleted it!” he hissed through gritted teeth. “There is a difference!”</p><p>“Yes, well…” She started but stopped when they heard the clicking of heels and their eyes widened.</p><p>Hastily, Helena pulled her wand out and waved it at Sherlock – who looked down at himself astounded. Instead of the clothes he had been wearing seconds ago, he was now dressed just like a security guard with a black jacket and a cap. He looked up and found the place empty as Helena was nowhere in sight. Then a hand grasped his and he stiffened when he noticed that it was invisible, but relaxed as soon as he felt soft fingers squeezing his hand a bit and Helena’s voice whispered in his ear, “It’s me.”</p><p>Before he could inspect it further, a woman stepped into view and asked in an Eastern European accent, “Don't you have something to do?”</p><p>He felt the fingers slipping from his own, but he felt her presence nearby. Composing himself, he shrugged. “Just admiring the view.”</p><p>“Yes. Lovely. Now get back to work – we open tonight.” The woman ordered.</p><p>Finally, Sherlock looked over his shoulder before turning around. He walked towards her and asked, “Doesn't it bother you?”</p><p>“What?” she asked confused</p><p>“That the painting’s a fake?” He stated, staring at the woman intently.</p><p>“What?” Wenceslas asked somewhat angrily.</p><p>“It's a fake. It has to be. It's the only possible explanation.” Walking closer, he looked down at her badge and asked, “You're in charge, aren't you, Miss. Wenceslas?”</p><p>Helena blinked and didn’t stop the smile that slipped onto her face.</p><p><em>'</em><em>Ah! How could she have forgotten that Sherlock had a lisp? It was still adorable though! Even more so than before and she resisted herself from melting into a puddle because seriously, how graceful and confident could someone be?!’</em> And then she face-palmed, because no! She wasn’t going there. Though a small part of her reminded – <em>‘She was already there!’</em></p><p>“Who are you?” the woman asked.</p><p>Stared into her eyes, he asked, “Alex Woodbridge knew that the painting was a fake, so somebody sent the Golem to take care of him. Was it you?”</p><p>“Golem? What the hell are you talking about?” the woman scoffed.</p><p>He continued as if he hadn’t heard her and asked, “Or are you working for someone else? Did you fake it for them?”</p><p>“It's not a fake.” She said insistently.</p><p>“It is a fake. Don't know why, but there's something wrong with it. There has to be.” Sherlock urged persistently.</p><p>“What the hell are you on about? You know, I could have you sacked on the spot.” She threatened.</p><p>“Not a problem.” He stated.</p><p>She raised an eyebrow questioningly. “No?”</p><p>“No. I don't work here, you see. Just popped in to give you a bit of friendly advice.” He told the woman smugly.</p><p>“How did you get in?” she asked.</p><p>“Please!” Sherlock said snidely.</p><p>“I want to know.” The woman demanded again.</p><p>“The art of a disguise is knowing how to hide in plain sight.” He stated before turning around and taking his cap off.</p><p>Aggrieved, she asked, “Who are you?”</p><p>“Sherlock Holmes.” He replied before dropping the cap onto the top of the railing posts and walked towards the exit.</p><p>“Am I supposed to be impressed?” she called.</p><p>“You should be.” He called back as he took the jacket off and deliberately dropped it onto the floor. Reaching the doors, he flamboyantly shoved it open and danced out of the room. “Have a nice day.”</p><p>Helena shook her head before she noticed Miss. Wenceslas walking closer to the painting and looking at it as the door closed behind Sherlock.</p><hr/><p>He was waiting for her when she made her way outside and snapped impatiently, “What took you so long?”</p><p>She didn’t bother replying, instead stated slowly, “You have a lisp.”</p><p>His eyes snapped to hers and when he saw her smirking, his ears turned red and he grumbled grouchily, “Shut up.”</p><p>She hid her face, so he wouldn’t see her smiling and handed him something he hadn’t noticed before. “Here.”</p><p>He looked at it to her, thoroughly confused and asked, “The hat? Why?”</p><p>“I just couldn’t leave it behind! It made you look good enough to eat.” She rasped truthfully, delighted by the way his cheeks flushed even as he threw a half-hearted glare her way.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Baker’s Street</span> </strong>
</p><p>“Alex Woodbridge didn't know anything special about art,” John said as soon as he got out of the cab.</p><p>“And?” Sherlock asked.</p><p>“And...” John uttered as Sherlock looked towards the homeless girl before heading towards her.</p><p>“Is that it? No habits, hobbies, personality?” Sherlock asked.</p><p>“No, give us a chance! He was an amateur astronomer.” John called, but Sherlock turned and pointed towards the cab and said, “Hold that cab.”</p><p>Helena didn’t notice the girl handing over a crumpled piece of paper to Sherlock because her eyes found Neville, who was walking towards her. <em>‘Why would he be here?’</em> she thought to herself as she walked towards him and asked with a frown, “What is it?”</p><p>“We got him. Silas Crump.” Neville whispered urgently.</p><p>Her eyes widened with disbelief. “How?”</p><p>He shifted uncomfortably and said, “He… he was in London to drop the last body they took and to search for their new victim.”</p><p>Already knowing and dreading his answer, she asked, “The child? Is he…?”</p><p>Neville’s face fell and he shook his head before muttering a soft, “Sorry.”</p><p>Helena closed her eyes, when Sherlock asked, “Who’s Silas Crump?”</p><p>She was so startled that she nearly jumped but sighed with relief when she saw who it was. Exhaling a breath, she rubbed her eyes and said, “He’s Greyback’s second in command.”</p><p>“The werewolf,” Sherlock stated with child-like excitement.</p><p>Neville looked back at her and whispered again, “He broke Terry’s wand before we caught him. This is big, Helena. If we manage to break his shield, we’ll find out everything.”</p><p>Helena nodded before turning towards Sherlock and said, “Sorry, but I have to go. If you need me, use the coin, yeah? I’ll try to be there as soon as I can.”</p><p>Sherlock waved her off before giving a parting nod to Neville and saw as the two ‘wizards’ vanished into a darkened alley before he climbed into his cab.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Next Day</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Scotland Yard</span> </strong>
</p><p>Sherlock was sitting beside Miss. Wenceslas in front of Lestrade's desk, staring into his phone as he said thoughtfully, “Well, um, criminal conspiracy, fraud, accessory after the fact at the very least. The murder of the old woman, all the people in the flats...”</p><p>Panicked, she stared at Lestrade and stated, “I didn't know anything about that! All those things! Please believe me.”</p><p>Sherlock gave him a tiny nod to confirm that the woman was telling the truth.</p><p>“I just wanted my share. The thirty million.” She said, looking at Sherlock before lowering her head again. “I found a little old man in Argentina. Genius. I mean – really. Brushwork, immaculate. Could fool anyone.”</p><p>“Mmm!” Sherlock scoffed sarcastically.</p><p>She looked at him briefly before amending her statement, “Well, nearly anyone. But I didn't know how to go about convincing the world the picture was genuine. It was just an idea. A spark which he blew into a flame.”</p><p>His head snapped towards her and he asked sharply, “Who?”</p><p>She shook her head and stated, “I don't know.” Lestrade laughed disbelievingly and the woman nearly shouted, “It's true! I mean, it took a long time, but eventually, I was… put in touch with people... his people.”</p><p>Sherlock sat up slowly, concentrating at her as she continued, “Well, there was never any real contact. Just messages... whispers.”</p><p>Sherlock leaned closer and asked intensely, “And did those whispers have a name?”</p><p>She gazed ahead for a moment before nodding and said, “Moriarty.”</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">An Hour Later</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Café</span> </strong>
</p><p>Helena sighed tiredly as she sipped her tea. It took a while, but they had finally managed to break into Crump’s mind. They had all the information about the hideouts, their plans, how their pack attacked, and what they were planning next. Now she wanted to go home and take a nap, but after the day she had, she needed a strong cuppa. She pulled her phone out to let Sherlock know that she was done, in case he or John needed help.</p><p>She had just typed the message when someone cleared their throat and she looked up to see none other than Molly’s boyfriend, smiling down at her.</p><p>“Hello.” He smiled creepily.</p><p>“Molly’s boyfriend… Jim, yeah?” Awkwardly, she smiled back. “Hello.”</p><p>He cocked his head, observing her and said, “I didn’t think anyone would remember me.”</p><p>“Er… well, I do.” She shifted uncomfortably.</p><p>“You know, I would’ve loved to know more about you… but…” he shook his head sadly and sang, “Sorry!”</p><p>Alarm bells rang in her head, but just then, someone stabbed a needle in her neck. Gasping with sudden pain, she hastened to grab her purse, which held her wand as it was lying on the booth right beside her but didn’t go too far. Her limbs were heavy, her brain felt mushy and she had to fight to keep her eyes from dropping. She was frozen with fear when she tried to pull her wand out, but her hands were shaking so badly, they didn’t cooperate.</p><p>He moved to sit right beside her and said, “You’re stronger than I imagined.”</p><p>When she blinked at him dizzily, he stated in a child-like voice, “You should’ve passed out after drinking the tea! But, you’re not exactly fragile, are you? That’s why Sherlock keeps you around!”</p><p>And much to her horror, he put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her up without effort.</p><p>“Moriarty?” she mumbled and he stopped for a second, his grip on her tightened before she felt another needle piercing her skin, and her world faded into darkness.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Evening</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">221B</span> </strong>
</p><p>Still staring at his phone, Sherlock asked, “Have you heard from Helena?”</p><p>“No, but I’m sure she’s fine.” John replied as he closed the lid of his laptop and said, “I won't be in for tea. I'm going to Sarah's. There's still some of that risotto Eiric made left in the fridge.” He told me.</p><p>“Mmm!” Sherlock’s mused before his eyes went back to the TV.</p><p>John stopped at the door before turning around and said, “Uh, milk. We need milk.”</p><p>“I'll get some,” Sherlock replied.</p><p>John stared with disbelief and gasped, “Really?!”</p><p>“Really,” Sherlock repeated.</p><p>John tried his luck and asked, “And some beans, then?”</p><p>“Mmm,” Sherlock replied, still not looking away from the TV.</p><p>John hesitated, suspicious and surprised, but nodded before walking away.</p><p>Once Sherlock was sure, John had left, he picked up his laptop from where it had been tucked down beside him. Opening the lid, he opened his website and typed – [Found. The Bruce-Partington Plans. Please collect. The Pool. Midnight.] His lips quirked in a small smile as he sent the message and closed the lid.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">The Pool</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Midnight</span> </strong>
</p><p>He entered the area surrounding an indoor swimming pool and looked around. The lights were on, but he couldn’t see anyone. Stopping at the edge of the pool, he turned, trying to see up into the viewing gallery. Finally, turning back towards the pool, he raised one hand and help up the memory stick.</p><p>“Brought you a little getting-to-know-you present. That’s what it’s all been for, isn’t it? All your little puzzles, making me dance. All to distract me from this.” Sherlock called loudly, gesturing with the memory stick and looked around, waiting for a response.</p><p>His back was turned as he heard a door opening and looked over his shoulder, to see Helena walking towards him. She was wrapped in her brown coat with her hands tucked into both the pockets. She looked at him impassively, while his eyes widened with absolute shock. He couldn’t comprehend what was happening.</p><p>
  <em>‘Had she been toying with him all this time? But…’ </em>
</p><p>“Evening.” She said.</p><p>Sherlock lowered his hand slowly, but couldn’t move, frozen as he was with utter disbelief.</p><p>“This is a turn-up, isn't it, Sherlock?” she asked blankly.</p><p>“Helena! What the hell…?” He asked softly, shocked to his very core.</p><p>Stonily, she replied, “Bet you never saw this coming.”</p><p>He turned around, finally managing to face the woman he had believed was his friend until now. He walked towards her slowly – bewildered and upset, feeling like a child who had been kicked. To his surprise, she exhaled loudly, somewhat shakily as she pulled her hands out from the pockets and opened the coat to reveal a bomb strapped to her chest. A sniper's laser immediately began dancing over the bomb.</p><p>“What… would you like me… to make her say… next?”</p><p>Sherlock continued moving towards her, looking everywhere to see who else was in the area.</p><p>She spoke again, narrating the words spoken to her into the earpiece. “Gottle o'geer...  gottle o' geer...  gottle o' geer.”</p><p>Her voice almost broke on the last phase and Sherlock couldn’t help himself and called, “Stop it.”</p><p>“Nice touch, this. The pool, where little Carl died. I stopped him. I can stop Helena Potter too.” She spoke, looking pissed as she looked down at the laser point on her chest. “Stop her heart.”</p><p>“Who are you?” Sherlock called anxiously, trying to keep the sudden panic that was bubbling inside him down and looked around again.</p><p>A door opened at the far end of the pool and a soft male voice with an Irish accent spoke plaintively, “I gave you my number. I thought you might call.”</p><p>Sherlock turned around to see a man walking towards him slowly. He was dressed sharply, his hair was immaculate and he looked murderous. He didn’t miss the deep gash on the side of man’s forehead. It was recent. The man had his hands shoved into his pockets as he strolled alongside the pool casually.</p><p>“Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket...” The man asked, all hint of plaintiveness gone from his voice. Sherlock reached for the pistol hidden in his back pocket of his trousers and pulled it out, just as he, “...or are you just pleased to see me?”</p><p>Sherlock raised the pistol, aimed it towards Jim and said, “Both.”</p><p>Jim stopped, looking, confident and unbothered as he said, “Jim Moriarty. Hi!”</p><p>Sherlock tilted his head, looking closely at the man and was surprised to see that it was none other than Jim, Molly’s boyfriend. Indeed, he had left his number.</p><p>“Jim? Jim from the hospital?” he said as he started walking towards the deep end again.</p><p>Sherlock moved his other hand to support the gun, aiming it at Jim, who tuts as if disappointed and asked, “Oh. Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then, I suppose, that was rather the point.”</p><p>Then, he looked at Helena and gave a fleeting smile. It was all teeth as he said softly, “But this one… she remembered me.”</p><p>Frowning, Sherlock looked at Helena to see the sniper’s laser flickering over her throat before he eyed Jim warily as the man walked closer and said, “Don't be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle. I don't like getting my hands dirty.”</p><p>Reaching towards the pool, he stopped again. “I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist you see.” He looked at Sherlock with something akin to pride. “...like you!”</p><p>“Dear Jim... please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover's nasty sister?” Sherlock quoted, making Jim grin and he started walking again. “Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America?”</p><p>“Just so,” Jim said, stopping again.</p><p>“Consulting criminal.” Sherlock said softly, “Brilliant.”</p><p>Helena closed her eyes and counted to ten, so she wouldn’t end up basing both their heads together or worse, triggering her magic that would set the bomb off.</p><p>“Isn't it? No-one ever gets to me. And no-one ever will.” Jim stated arrogantly.</p><p>“I did,” Sherlock replied and cocked the pistol.</p><p>“You've come the closet. Now you're in my way.” Jim sang.</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>Jim said, “Didn't mean it as a compliment.”</p><p>“Yes, you did,” Sherlock stated confidently.</p><p>“Yeah, OK, I did. But the flirting's over, Sherlock.” Jim shrugged before he sang in a high-pitched voice, “Daddy's had enough now!”</p><p>He started strolling again, and continued, “I've shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, even thirty million quid, just to get you to come out and play.”</p><p>Sherlock’s eyes shifted to Helena, noticing how she had closed her eyes, clearly strained before turning back to Jim as the man said, “So take this as a friendly warning… my dear. Back off.” He added with a smile, “Although I have loved this, this little game of ours.” He changed the accent back to the British one for a moment. “Playing Jim from I.T.” He switched back to the Irish accent again. “Playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?”</p><p>“People have died,” Sherlock stated.</p><p>“That's what people DO!” he screamed the last word furiously, his personality changing instantly.</p><p>Helena recoiled internally, but gave no other reaction as Sherlock stated confidently, “I will stop you.”</p><p>Jim shook his said and said calmly, “No, you won't.”</p><p>Sherlock looked at Helena, gun still aimed at Jim and asked softly, “You all right?”</p><p>She didn’t reply and kept her gaze away, presumably having been given instructions earlier about not talking.</p><p>Jim strides forward, closer to her and said, “You can talk, Helena. Go ahead.”</p><p>Helena met Sherlock’s eyes briefly and gave a single nod. He held the memory stick towards Jim and said, “Take it.”</p><p>“Mm? Oh… That!” Strolling past Helena, he took the stick with a grin. “The missile plans.”</p><p>Sherlock kept the pistol aimed at Jim as he kissed the stick and sang in a high-pitched voice, “Boring! I could have got them anywhere.”</p><p>With that, he tossed it in the pool nonchalantly. Seeing her opportunity, Helena rushed forward and within seconds had Jim in a chokehold, making him yelp at the suddenness of her action. Startled, Sherlock took a step back, his eyes widen with surprise a fraction, but he kept the pistol aimed at Jim.</p><p>“Sherlock, run!” she yelled, her eyes glaring down at Jim.</p><p>Delighted, Jim laughed and choked out, “Good! Very Good.”</p><p>Sherlock didn’t move, still aiming the pistol at Jim's head, but looked around apprehensively, his hands trembled as he wondered what action the hidden sniper might take.</p><p>“If your sniper pulls that trigger, Jimmy, then we both go up.” Helena hissed.</p><p>“Lovely, isn’t she? You know it was a choice – her or the doctor. I’m glad I picked her. The doctor would’ve been too smart to fight back. Boring!” Jim said mildly as he looked at Sherlock. He pointed towards the gash on his face and said sadly, “She hit me, feisty little thing! And a bonus? She’s not dumb! I can see why you keep her around. I would like to have someone like her… who would be ready to die for me!”</p><p>With another grin towards Sherlock, he added, “Maybe I’ll just keep her.”</p><p>Helena grimaced but tightened her hold on him and whispered, “Not only did you drugged me, but you also groped me and then put a bomb on me. I’m going to feed you to a Merrow!”</p><p>Jim and Sherlock looked at her confused and asked together, “Merrow?”</p><p>“They like to feed on the flesh of a human. Easily angered. And with how gyrating your voice is, they’ll have no difficulty in doing just that.” She told him casually.</p><p>Jim looked at Sherlock questioningly as if to ask – <em>‘was she was being serious?’</em>; who shrugged.</p><p>“So touchingly loyal. But, oops!” Jim grinned at her briefly before looking at Sherlock.</p><p>Helena stared horrified as a new laser point appeared in the middle of Sherlock’s forehead. Sherlock guessed what had happened by her expressions and shook his head slightly.</p><p>“Gotcha!” Jim chuckled as Helena released her grip on him and stepped back, holding her hand up to show that she won’t be trying anything else.</p><p>Jim brushed his hand down to his suit, straightening it and stated indignantly, “Westwood! Do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock? To you?”</p><p>“Oh, let me guess, I get killed,” Sherlock replied, sounding bored.</p><p>“Kill you?” Jim made a face. “No, don't be obvious. I mean, I'm going kill you anyway, someday. I don't wanna rush it, though. I'm saving it up for something special. No, no, no, no, no. If you don't stop prying, I'll burn you.” He looks down at Sherlock’s body and snarled viciously, “I'll burn the heart out of you.”</p><p>“I have been reliably informed that I don't have one,” Sherlock told the man softly, making Helena wince with shame as she remembered the words, she and John had thrown at him not long ago.</p><p>“But we both know that's not quite true,” Jim said as if talking to a child, making Sherlock blink involuntarily. Jim smiled before shrugging, “Well, I'd better be off.”</p><p>He looked around nonchalantly before gazing Helena and said with a smirk, “Well, it was nice to meet you. I’ll be seeing you again.” He looked back at Sherlock and added, “…both of you.”</p><p>Sherlock raised the pistol higher, closer to Jim's head and said, “What if I was to shoot you now? Right now?”</p><p>“Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face.” He said, completely unperturbed, opening his eyes and mouth wide, mimicking surprise. Then, he grinned. “Cos I'd be surprised, Sherlock. Really I would.”</p><p>Scrunching his nose up, he added, “And just a teensy bit… disappointed. And of course, you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long. Ciao, Sherlock Holmes.”</p><p>With that, he turned and winked at Helena, making her cringe.</p><p>Sherlock took a step forward to keep him in sight and said, “Catch you... later.”</p><p>As the door opened, Jim sang again, “No, you won't!”</p><p>The door closed with a bang, but Sherlock kept his pistol aimed towards the door before his gaze drifted towards Helena. Bending down instantly, he put the pistol on the floor and dropped to his knee in front of her, hastily unfastening the vest to which the bomb was attached.</p><p>“All right?” he asked, but Helena didn’t reply and stumbled back, panting heavily, so he asked again, loudly and urgently, “Are you all aright?”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah. I'm fine.” Having unfastened the vest, he jumped up and hurried behind her, starting to pull the coat and bomb vest off together. “I'm fine.”</p><p>He too was breathing heavily now as he tugged the coat and vest off her vehemently. She wasn’t sure if he had heard her, so gasped again, “Sherlock.”</p><p>Finally, he stripped them off her roughly, making her stagger.</p><p>“Sh-Sherlock!”</p><p>He bent down and skimmed the items as far away along the floor as he can; Helena stumbled as she reached up and pulled the earpiece from her ear, breathing heavily.</p><p>Sherlock turned and stares at her for a moment, then picked the pistol hurriedly before racing towards the door through which Moriarty left.</p><p>Helena’s knees buckle and she staggered towards the nearest support, the edge of one of the changing cubicles and gasped, “Dear Merlin.”</p><p>Feeling drained, she turned and dropped down with her back against the cubicle’s edge. Now that the adrenaline was over, she could feel the haze of drugs she had been injected with flowing through her mind and body. Taking a breath, she closed her eyes and tried to calm herself down, all the while making revenge plans in her head. The bloody bastard had drugged her and she had left her purse in the café!</p><p>Having seen no sign of Moriarty outside, Sherlock came back in and started pacing in front of her, so hyper and distracted that he started scratching his head with the business end of a loaded and cocked.</p><p>“Are you okay?” She asked breathlessly.</p><p>“Me? Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine. Fine.” He fired quickly, scratching his head with the pistol.</p><p>He was wide-eyed and breathless as he waved the hand with the gun in the air and said, “That, er...  thing that you… er, that you did, that, um...” he cleared his throat unnecessarily. “... you offered to do. That was, um...  good.”</p><p>She stared blankly ahead of herself and murmured darkly, “I am going to… feed him… to the dementors.”</p><p>“Hmm?” he lowered his hand and said, “I would pay to watch that.”</p><p>Helena snorted out a laugh and he grinned as she stood up, more than ready to leave, when they were stopped, as the beams from the sniper's laser began dancing over both their chests.</p><p>She looked down and mumbled with a grimace, “Yeah, I’m going to skin him alive.”</p><p>The door opened and Jim entered again, clapping his hands together and said cheerfully, “Sorry, guys! I'm sooooo changeable!”</p><p>Sherlock didn’t turn to look at Jim, but looked up, trying to judge how many snipers there might be up there. It was obvious there were quite a few because at least two laser points were hovering over Helena and at least three were hovering over him.</p><p>Jim laughed manically, spreading his arms wide and said, “It is a weakness with me but, to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness.”</p><p>Sherlock turned his head to look at Helena, who gazed back at him. Something silent passed between the two as Jim continued, “You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I would try to convince you but...” he laughed and sang in his high-pitched voice again, “...everything I have to say had already crossed your mind!”</p><p>Once again, Sherlock’s eyes met hers and she gave a single, but determined nod as she moved to stand beside him.</p><p>His eyes never left hers as he said, “Probably my answer has crossed yours.”</p><p>Then, he raised his pistol to point at Jim, who smiled back confidently. Slowly, Sherlock lowered his pistol until it was pointing towards the bombed vest. The smile fell from Jim’s lips as he stared at Sherlock anxiously, who was staring back at him.</p><p>Suddenly, a song began playing tinnily, making both Sherlock and Helena frown as they look around confused, but Jim briefly closed his eyes and sigh exasperatedly before asking, “Do you mind if I get that?”</p><p>“No, no, please. You've got the rest of your life.” Sherlock said nonchalantly.</p><p>Jim pulled the phone from his pocket and answered, [Hello? ...  Yes, of course, it is. What do you want?]</p><p>Silently, he mouthed 'Sorry' to Sherlock, who mouthed back sarcastically, 'Oh, it's fine'.</p><p>Rolling his eyes, Jim turned away, listening to whatever was being said on the phone, before spinning back around suddenly and shouted furiously, [SAY THAT AGAIN!]</p><p>Unconsciously, Helena moved her hand and grabbed the back of Sherlock’s jacket tightly in her fist, making him frown, but he kept his eyes firmly his at Jim, who said malevolently, [Say that again, and know that if you're lying to me, I will find you and I will skin you.]</p><p>[Wait.] Lowering the phone, he walked towards the coat and Sherlock adjusted his grip on the pistol, ready to shoot. Stopping in front of the coat, Jim gazed down at it thoughtfully before lifting his eyes to meet Sherlock’s and said, “Sorry… Wrong day to die.”</p><p>“Oh. Did you get a better offer?”  Sherlock asked casually.</p><p>Jim looked back at his phone before turning around and started walking towards the door slowly. “You'll be hearing from me.”</p><p>Lifting his phone to his ear, he said, [So if you have what you say you have, I will make you rich. If you don't, I'll make you into shoes.”]</p><p>He clicked his fingers as soon as he raised the main door and instantly, all lasers pointed at Sherlock and Helena disappeared.</p><p>They both looked around before she finally relented her grip on his coat and asked, "Who the hell called him?"</p><p>"That’s the question, isn't it? Who changed his mind." he told her slowly, before turning to look at her and asked, "Your wand?"</p><p>“I was having tea when he drugged me. My purse… it should be in the café.” She sighed and he nodded like he expected it all long.</p><p>Then, much to her surprise, he took her hand in his, just like she had done in the gallery and said, “Come on, we’ll get it on the way to home. And we’ll have to stop at the store. I told John I'd get milk and beans.”</p><p>He didn't look at her as he pulled her along and for once, instead of whining or saying something sarcastic, she found herself tightening her grip on his hand.</p><hr/><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">Two Days Later</span> </strong>
</p><p>
  <strong> <span class="u">221C</span> </strong>
</p><p>Sherlock rushed downstairs and as always, barged into her flat. Frowning, he looked around until he noticed a paper lying on the table. Picking it up, he read,</p><p>
  <strong>‘Work. Should be back before the full moon. The flat is warded but keyed to the three of you. The books in the living room are relatively harmless. You can read them if you want.’</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>Helena</strong>
</p><p>
  <strong>PS: Tell John there’s food in the fridge.</strong>
</p><p>He scowled at the note before stomping back upstairs with a loud huff.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>EN: Here, it’s done. I’ll try to post part 3 of this series soon if you are interested in reading more of this.</p><p>Some events are changed, some are the same as the ones in BBC’s Sherlock. I decided not to mention everything – only the necessary ones. You can always go back and watch the series as I do from time to time. 😊</p><p>Positive Criticism is always appreciated unless it is rude or insulting. Have a nice day everyone.</p><p>October 29th, 2020</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>EN: This series will have 5 parts in total. I tried to keep Sherlock’s character the same as the one played by Benedict Cumberbatch, after all, he’s the inspiration behind this series, but a presence of a woman in his life is bound to change him. I’ve also changed some of its plot accordingly, but mostly the stories will be the same.</p><p>In case you like this, review and let me know. I'll work on the next chapter after I'm done with Thor's chapter 4 and the last chapter of The Witch’s Touch.</p><p>Positive Criticism is always appreciated unless it is rude or insulting. Have a nice day everyone.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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